


marigolds

by colbub



Series: of marigolds and carnations [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Friendship, No Beta, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, a tonne of introspection, even if akechi is still not a great person, he does the right thing this time, p5r - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 395,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colbub/pseuds/colbub
Summary: Akechi meets a mysterious being chained to a door after death and gains a second chance.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Series: of marigolds and carnations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824115
Comments: 2205
Kudos: 4316
Collections: Fanfic For All Recommendations, Mixed_Fics, My Favorite Goro Akechi Fics, Quality Persona Fics, SomethingNew_Worldbuilding_Creative_OfQuality





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wanted to read an Akechi time-travel fic but then I read them all - so I'm writing one just so I can have more.  
> Sorry if people are OOC.  
> I tried.  
> ._.

_"Isn't there some way to get this open, Mona?!"_ That question is the last thing he hears before the buzz in his head drowns everything into silence.

The bullet wound doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. It's a starburst of pain before he shuts his eyes. He's seen enough death to know how utterly appalling it looks sometimes when someone dies with their eyes open, and even now he would never let himself look so undignified.

In the end, it doesn't really take that long. He's almost surprised. Akechi would have thought his cognitive double would've shot at a less immediately fatal place just to make him feel more pain.

But no, darkness came quickly.

And it was so did Goro Akechi, one of life's greatest jokes, come to an end.  


* * *

  
Death is more peaceful that he thought.

There's no Hell, no pearly gates, no holy judgement. Just a sensation like he's constantly falling. Like a small speck of light in the infinite darkness of space, his soul falls like rain into a far-off sea that stretches to some eternity he couldn't see. The sea is a stream of beautiful light in the darkness that leads infinitely, marches on and on, and Akechi finally understands what it is. _Humanity._

There's plenty of time, and no time at all until he's sitting at the very edge of this vast sea. Unlike all the other souls that seemed drawn towards merging immediately with the sea to spread their own strands of light alongside their brethren, Akechi still finds enough of himself to hold back.

Once he touches this sea, he instinctually knew, he would immediately be erased. Everything that made the being called _Goro Akechi_ would immediately be merged into the grand tapestry of humanity's past.

He lingers, feeling inexplicably… not scared. No. Akechi had known he'd been dancing on the edge of death ever since he'd signed that deal with Shido. No, what he feels is the same feeling that had defined him in life, haunting him now in death. It isn't hatred, to his surprise, it's—

It's Loki's scream whenever he tore his mask off, it's his anger whenever the anniversary of his mother's death rolled around. It's the despair he felt when he realised he played right into Shido's hands, the pained regret when he learnt of the way the Phantom Thieves stole hearts. Ultimately though, it's…

Dissatisfaction.

Yes, that's it. He feels so _unsatisfied._

Dissatisfaction was what burnt him until he couldn't breathe when he was younger, wondering what was so different about _him_. His foster parents waiting for government allowances, tittering behind his back about his dead mother ('suicide suits a prostitute, doesn't it?' They ask as if he'd nod and smile and agree.) His teachers turning a blind eye to the bullying until it suited them ('Akechi's a bastard, and Takumi's parents are on the school board. Isn't the choice obvious?')

His dissatisfaction fanned the hatred that came with the utter piece of shit that his father turned out to be, it fuelled the happiness when he was acknowledged, for once, even if his actions went transformed slowly from innocuous to murderous…

Society deserved it, anyway. They were the ones who turned him into someone who looked at _Shido_ for validation.

_Let it burn to the ground like the trash heap it was._

(A smidgen of his heart protested – it recalled Akira, on a quiet night, cleaning a glass as he sipped his coffee. He remembered how the low lights reflected off the lens of his glasses, hiding the calm grey gaze he knew was underneath. Joker's energy and ingenuity was always hidden underneath an unassuming, near genteel exterior, and the small smile that he sent his way when he noticed Akechi was looking…)

No matter, his soul's still burning with injustice, and it's that fire that lets Akechi dig against the pull of _peace warmth safety harmony._ He watches the endless stream of souls joining the sea with the growing edge of fury he'd always lived with, shooting a glare at the pulsing, gentle white brilliance.

He would never step in. It's with that thought in mind that Akechi begins a lonely trek at the edge between the Sea and the Void.

Let his continued existence be his last act of defiance against the people who wished to erase him.  


* * *

  
How long did he float along the edge of the sea? There's nothing there that he could see as he did his slow travel forward. Just the Sea, the souls that re-joined with it, and the background of space. His stubbornness leads him to travel far, far from the entrance he came from until the universe starts trembling darker than he's ever seen it. It throbs now as if it is alive.

Slowly, alongside the writhing darkness, comes a speck of light. The first speck of colour since he's died. Like a moth to a flame, Akechi can't help but shift his direction slightly and head towards it.

As Akechi draws nearer, he finds it's a golden door, floating in defiance of all the darkness. Something in him instinctively realises it's protecting something against the writhing darkness that holds an intimately familiar taste.

And as he draws nearer still, for the first time in eternity, Akechi feels something gazing at him, a bright burst of regard that culminates in a voice that echoes in his head.

_Hm, a fellow Wildcard?_

The voice says curiously, before the Sea bleeds away in front of his eyes, washing his surroundings into a scene of an unfamiliar school rooftop. In front of him sits an expressionless boy with blue hair, who raises a hand rather lackadaisically when Akechi just stands there, blinking in confusion, a polite smile already teetering on his lips.

The boy's mouth doesn't move, even when his voice rings in his head.

_Yo, comrade. Who're you?_

"Isn't that my question?" Akechi asks back, carefully seating himself on one of the curved chairs facing the boy. The blue-haired boy doesn't react, letting his hand fall back down onto the seat he was sitting on.

_Me? Well… call me Minato, I guess?_

Akechi smiles, familiar with the fake motion. "You sound a little unsure?"

The other boy, Minato, smiles a small one like he wasn't much used to it.

_To my defence, I haven't talked to someone… for quite a while. Especially since I became someone from This Side. I'm glad you came by. What's your name?_

"Goro Akechi," Akechi replies and Minato nods without much facial expression, seeming quite content to continue to sit there and watch him with unblinking eyes. Sometimes he fiddles with his school uniform, which… Akechi squints. That uniform is familiar. Wasn't that school fairly famous? "You're a student of Gekkoukan?"

Minato looked honestly surprised that he noticed, glancing down at himself.

_Oh, yes. I guess you're…_

Minato properly looks at Akechi's blood-splattered clothing, Loki's belted bodysuit still wrapped around his form as it had been in his last moments. The stripes are stark and comical compared to the normal school uniform Minato's wearing.

_I guess more time has passed than I thought. I would've never worn that outside._

Akechi's face burns.

"No, you misunderstand, this isn't what I usually wear, it's my cognition of rebellion against my father—"

At Minato's guileless eyes, Akechi stops himself. "No, you probably wouldn't understand. May I ask, what do you mean by time? How long have you been here?"

_I became an entity of the Other Side when it was 2009._

"It's 2016 now," Akechi says, watching as Minato's face immediately becomes a few shades more wistful, the world's faintest frown etching itself on his brow as he looks beyond Akechi. For a few moments, Minato is lost in the swirling galaxy above them.

_It's already been seven years… I wonder how they all are._

_I wonder if they miss me…_

Minato trails off, obviously in thought, before his eyes rest back on Akechi. They're gentle, for all that's worth, but Akechi hadn't been met with genuine kindness for so long that he relaxes against it anyway.

"Where are we?" Akechi asks to distract himself, looking around the dim school rooftop, the clean lines underneath a starry sky. Minato lets himself look around the rooftop he conjured with a sense of nostalgia.

_The edge of the universe, the boundary between time and space, existence and death, reality and the Other Side._

_But if you're just asking about what you can see, it's Gekkoukan's school rooftop._

Minato's voice is a touch amused, before his eyes land inevitably at the bullet hole in his chest.

_What happened to you, anyway?_

Akechi laughs a little at himself, a note of derision sliding in as he covers the bullet hole with a hand.

"What's there to say?" Akechi starts, thinking of grey eyes, their quiet focus. The alarm in Akira's eyes when he let the door slam down, the aborted step forward. Is he glad that Akira didn't make it under, that he wasn't there as he died? Who knows. "I was a fool. I betrayed someone, got betrayed in return, then died because I was never good enough."

Minato tilts his head to the side, blue eyes intent.

_Are you comfortable with sharing more?_

_…The only thing we have here is time._

The voice that echoes in his head is matter of fact, but also unassuming, anticipatory. That tone scratches something familiar in his heart, of the proud clunk of a cup of coffee being placed in front of him, and a wry twist of the mouth that he would classify as a smirk on anyone but Akira.

("Working on a case?" Akira would lean over the counter, trying his best to squint at his notes backwards. That would make Akechi give him a look, making him back off with a small grin, pushing a cup of coffee between them instead as an unrepentant apology offering.)

Yes, Akechi takes a moment to assess the boy in front of him. Minato somehow reminds him of Akira.

Akira, who brought a whole slew of unwelcome memories.

Akechi turns away from Minato with his politest, vaguest smile.

He's dead, anyway. Did those things in life really matter? He is a pragmatist, a murderer, and a desperate, pathetic man. He was a person who burnt everything to ashes in his single-minded plan to take revenge. That plan is in ashes now, his ambition given to a group he knows will succeed.

There's no need to air out his life choices to the first stranger he met, even if they were kind.

_Fair enough._

Is Minato's unruffled reply, and that was that. The other boy settles down into a more comfortable position, never moving those unblinking eyes that seem to be trained eternally on Akechi's face.

Akechi thinks, just a little bitterly, that Minato is probably doing that on purpose.

Nosy.

Just like another certain somebody he knows.  


* * *

  
Akechi cracks eventually. Minato is very, very patient.

His story comes out in drips and drabbles, between other conversations that they start about more mundane things. It comes between Akechi admitting his love for pancakes, and Minato sharing his love for music, all bands a little too out of trend for Akechi to know.

When his story does come – his mother's suicide, the neglectful foster parents, his bastard politician of a father – Minato listens with his same unblinking stare, sometimes nodding, sometimes giving considering hums as Akechi starts delving into details about the Metaverse, Personas, and Akira, the Multi-Personaed Golden Boy himself. His murders, his regret that always came too late, too little, too easily washed away by approval. Loki, and insanity. Being a pawn.

For the first time, Akechi shares his whole story with another being.

(He really isn't sure if Minato is human anymore.)

It's surprisingly relieving.

Minato's reply to it all is even more inexplicable.

_The Other Side is creeping closer to reality year by year. And your story… two Wildcards, and no Igor in sight._

Minato starts frowning after he pieces everything together, pillowing his head in his hands as he lays back to stare upwards. The universe continues to swirl over the school rooftop in lazy spirals, casting Minato's thoughtful features in gentle relief.

_Shall I tell you my story, Goro Akechi?_

When Akechi doesn't bother to hide his curiosity, his polite smile long ditched for something much more honest, Minato shoots him a small smile before launching into a tale of his own.

Another orphan, another tragedy, with an utterly different ending. There is still betrayal, heartbreak and mystery, but Akechi listens to a fantastical tale of an antisocial boy who grew to love humanity because of his friendships, who ultimately sacrificed himself so that humanity could continue.

Minato's gentle smile overlapped one with a sharp grin, blue eyes melded into grey. Another antisocial boy who found friendship, who Akechi no-doubt knew would sacrifice himself for the lives of his friends.

"Are you an idiot?" Akechi manages to say, after all of that. There were some things in life he couldn't deny, and one of them was that no matter how creepy Minato's staring can be, Akechi knew that Minato was a very rare _good_ person. One of those he would've spared a few weeks' worths of regrets and nightmares over if Shido had ordered them to be killed. "You're worth a _million_ of the people you protect."

Scum like himself. Shido. The disgusting criminals and murderers that he'd read in his case files every day, who killed and stole and argued and then played the victim in the end.

_Haha, not really. I'm a pretty dull person, you know._

Minato's laugh is soft and oddly rewarding to hear. It had the shy quality of someone who didn't laugh often, and Akechi couldn't help but feel his anger calm alongside it. This whole relationship with Minato is delightfully simple. Just two people, speaking to stave off the vast emptiness of the beyond.

That they are two Persona users, and Wildcards at that (Minato's story has put… a definite sense of importance on things he'd never considered), is irrelevant.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to have a friend. Akechi gives Minato his full attention when he starts to speak again.

_And besides, I think you're plenty worth protecting._

Akechi's resultant face says it all, and Minato laughs again as if they were sharing a joke before it slowly peters away into a serious disbelief.

_Wait… You don't feel it, do you?_

"Feel what?" says Akechi shortly, and Minato scrunches up his brows in confusion as he sits up and peers straight at Akechi. Then he places a hand on Akechi's forehead.

_Don't move. Doing this sort of thing isn't my forte._

Akechi pushes down the urge to flinch back as Minato's hand starts to glow white and transparent. With a push, Minato's fingers sink deep into his head, digging for something in his brain. After a solid minute, Minato's form starts shaking with effort before with a grunt of success, he clenches something and draws back, crushing whatever is in his hand into dust with an expression of exhaustion. He tilts his head to the side as he watches Akechi curl into himself in pain.

_Feel different?_

"What did you do to me?!" Akechi rasps, fingers digging into his hair as a flood of information swirls into his mind.

**Priestess Rank 1 – Makoto Niijima**

**Emperor Rank 1 – Yusuke Kitagawa**

**Hierophant Rank 3 – Sae Niijima**

**Fool Rank 9 – Akira Kurusu**

**Justice Rank 10 – Masayoshi Shido**

**Universe Rank 10 – Minato Arisato**

_Something was blocking you from accessing your true powers. I removed it._

"Your full name is Minato Arisato?"

When he looks at Minato, now there's an unbelievable amount of warmth that he never feels as if that feeling of friendship that he had just been wondering about had widened into a wide channel of pure acceptance and trust.

Akechi has never trusted anyone like this in his _life_.

(He feels vaguely sick.)

_Yeah. You don't get any prizes from guessing though, hah._

It takes a moment for Akechi to push all this into the back of his mind, before he glances up at Minato, who has settled back into his chair, trying not to shudder at another rush of _trust warmth acceptance_ that he feels when he does so.

"Did Akira…?"

_From what I'm sensing, you were his Justice Arcana._

Akechi couldn't help but gasp into a stretch of slightly mad laughter there. The sheer, fucking irony of _him_ being Akira's moral compass. Akira, the golden boy.

Compared to what? His own Justice is Shido. He's corrupt to the core, isn't he?

_You understand why I think you're worth protecting now?_

Well, Akechi thought, somehow their bond is Rank 10. Even higher than Akira's, and Akira had been the very first person to… The very first person he'd…

Well.

Minato's smile this time is even more horror-inducingly warm and friendly than before. Akechi leans back with goose-bumps at the sight of it.

"Stop that, that's… I'm not used to it."

The other boy teasingly widens his smile for a tad before letting it drop.

_Speaking of your fellow Wildcard, something seems to have gone wrong. The world… humanity. It has changed._

_He has accepted a deal. Humanity does not yearn… for death as much, but this was not an organic change._

_I did not wish for this._

The next look Minato sends him is a complicated one.

_It seems you are much more important than you think, Goro._

"It's not like I can do anything about that anymore," Akechi shrugs, his hands finding the bullet hole still in his chest. "And if the world is changed, that's double the blessing. Society is finally fixed, and you can go free."

_Didn't I say I'm in the business of saving people?_

Minato's smile widens, and in it, Akechi thinks he could see the determined boy in Minato's story, daring to face despair again, and again, and again in death and eternity… for the people he learned to love.

_Hey, Goro._

_Want a second chance?_


	2. Chapter 2

Minato's explanation is simple.

With a wave of his hand, he lets the façade of the school rooftop drop, and Akechi finds himself floating at the edge of Sea again having barely left where he had been before Minato scooped him up. The Sea's gentle glow is nothing next to the large golden door he now faces though, something that he notes with a bit of disgust was panelled with twitching eyes.

It's not as if he hasn't seen anything stranger with his adventures in Mementos, but the element of rejection is still there as he lets his eyes truly capture what he had only seen a glimpse of before.

Chains – dozens, all looped around the door. A great seal binding the stone figure of Minato with it.

_As embarrassing as it may be, the Other Side is greatly cognitive._

Minato's disaffected voice resounds in Akechi's head as Akechi's widened eyes take the whole scene in. It was one thing to know your newly made friend was some sort of modern Messiah figure, and another entirely to be confronted to his eternally chained form himself.

_Desires like the wish for mortality, for control, for love and hope all can become physical symbolic entities, which if grown strong enough can affect… reality._

_I am blessed with great friends._

_Each of these chains is one of my irreplaceable friends – they give me the strength to hold on to keep Nyx at bay. And I may… have been called 'The Saviour' quite a bit by friends who didn't wish to explain the whole story._

_I am no longer human – although I am a little different, you can think of me akin to a Persona. A denizen of the Other Side of Reality. I am myself, but I also embody the cognitions who desire me, who acknowledge me, who wish for me._

_One of these chains is you, Goro._

_You may have yearned for death in your hardest times… but you must have also wished for salvation. As long as that hope exists, I can save you._

"Why?"

He knew, didn't he? Akechi was, is, the pathetic boy who would have let the world he tried so hard to save burn to the ground if it could've let him have his one selfish wish of destroying Shido.

There must be so many more who deserve a chance at redemption than him.

_That other Wildcard. He needed you. The world didn't continue being saved._

_You're a Wildcard – you have the keys to answer the riddle yourself._

_But more than that… I believe in you Goro. I know you'll do the right thing._

"You're, you're _insane_."

That's all Akechi can choke out as he battles to breathe. Do the right thing? His whole _life_ was a series of bad decisions and selfishness. His sense of fairness had disappeared somewhere in the orphanage when the older kids stole everyone's food, and morality flew completely out the window when Shido smiled and praised him when he presented him another successful mental breakdown. He is the _complete opposite_ of the literal saint that Minato is, that he obviously thought Akechi could also be. Was that the other boy's naivety or insight?

It figures, doesn't it, that the second person who would ever believe in himself came after he's dead, when everything is over and done with.

Why? Why didn't he meet Akira, _Minato_ , sooner?

"Minato, I've long-lost what it means to do the right thing," he tries again. Minato's frozen features don't reply, and Akechi struggles to not lose himself into a wild fit of near-manic giggles, managing to compose himself by folding his fingers together and taking a deep breath. "I'm a horribly selfish person," he continues, telling himself to breathe, _breathe_ , don't laugh, don't burn, don't expect, don't _hope_ , "and I really, really don't care about the world you're trying to save." 

_I'm not good with words but... Goro, we're friends, and I care for you. And I hope you care for me._

_And if you do, I hope you also care that I... I love the world. Humans are... flawed and beautiful. I..._

Minato's voice fades away, and Akechi listens, still, silent. Wondering. Minato's sightless eyes stare over him, unjudgmental. Standing there, he feels strangely like an undeserving sinner, praying for succour to a God underneath the shadow of the golden door, bathed in its eerie warm glow. Minato believes and accepts him, even in his ugliest, most defeated form, and it's heavy. It's a weight that grounds him as he stares at the willingly trapped form of his friend, and in the end, it is Akechi that pulls his eyes away and heaves out a deep sigh of exasperation.

What a choice. Is he willing to go through all of that again? Akechi might be a little more worn down, after his long talk with Minato. A little less blinded, maybe, from his recognition that Shido will never recognise him. Still, it isn't an entirely abhorrent idea. Even now, something burns viciously in Akechi's chest at the thought of the world going on without him, after having stolen _everything_ away from him.

And perhaps. There may be a person he wants to see again.

"…I can't promise anything. But I'll try saving the world."

Minato's stone statue is worn and cracked, like a sad weathered fountain in an old public park – vague and worn and obviously expressionless. But when Akechi looks at it, he feels like he could imagine his smile, the slight warmth in his words. It is the easy familiarity that he'd once dreamed of when watching Featherman R and his merry band of friends saving the world. It's the thing he'd hated, burning in envy when he saw the same camaraderie in the Phantom Thieves, something that was never extended to him.

_Try living without rejecting the world this time, my friend._

_It's more beautiful than you think._

Akechi says nothing to Minato in return, just letting the image of him chained to the door burn into his mind, unblinking even against the white glow that builds around Minato the longer he stands there. Whiter, brighter, as if the dawn itself was blossoming in Minato's chest before the light rolled over him in a wave.

Then he is gone.

\-----------

\------

\---

-

-

-

It is suddenly dark. Instead of Minato's strangely warm presence, there's a large hulking shadow in front of him, who looks at him now with a hint of impatience in the line of his mouth, the familiar face of dismissal still somehow hurtful even after all the things that man had done to him. Emotions, of course, are illogical.

"Well?" Shido's impatient scowl hides a vein of calculation, a finger tapping the table as he glares at Akechi through his glasses. His murderer. His father. "Have you taken enough time to check the contract? I'm a very busy man."

Akechi blinks, startling when the clench of his fingers makes the paper in his hands' crinkle.

Breathe in. The smell of leather, carpet, cleaner. No stardust, no emptiness.

A ceiling, no stars.

Minato's gone.

Instead, Shido replaces him, sitting in the dim shadows of crystal lamps, eyes unreadable behind his tinted glasses. The air-conditioning in the other room whirs smoothly to life, bringing a wave of cold air to his feet.

Minato threw him right in front of Shido.

And because it is Shido, he doesn't allow himself to process or think. "Oh, my apologies," he slips back into old habit, sliding a well-practised smile on his face. It feels oily and plastic after talking for so long with Minato, but any time with Shido is no time to lose control. "I was just scanning over the small-text, please wait a moment more."

When he looks down, the contract that he's holding is more than familiar. This was what he'd been presented with when he approached Shido after he had saved him with the powers of the Metaverse. The white hands that hold the paper is a surprise – he hadn't started to wear his gloves yet when he was fifteen and brimming with petty teenage ambitions.

A brief glance around tells him that they were sitting in one of Shido's more nondescript high-rises, with dim lights to show off the floor to ceiling windows to his immediate left. The beautiful multi-coloured spread of the Tokyo nightscape is a sight for sore eyes, the glitter playing off the sleek elegant trimmings of the apartment.

He can't take too much time though, or Shido would get suspicious. A quick glance over the contract reminds him exactly what he'd agreed to when he was still too young, too stupid.

His very first contract with Shido stipulated Akechi would agree to three things:

_1\. Never reveal that he had a connection with Shido_

_2\. Never reveal the Metaverse to anyone without Shido's permission_

_3\. Weekly experiments to test the limits of the possibilities of the Metaverse under Shido's supervision and suggestion_

In return, Shido will provide three things in return:

_1\. Complete emancipation as a legal adult_

_2\. Provision of an apartment with a weekly living stipend as long as he continues experimentation with Shido_

_3\. Akechi's continued safety during Metaverse experimentation_

Akechi has to stop himself from succumbing to derisive laughter. It's too easy to remember what happened last time. Dazzled by the expensive apartment and Shido's regard, Akechi had pretended to be confident as he put his name down on both copies of the contracts after merely skimming it, buoyed with the hummingbird happiness of his impending freedom. An adult with his own apartment. _Imagine that,_ his younger self jittered. _He could finally be free._

Being secure with his knowledge that he was irreplaceable as the only person with access to the Metaverse filled him with arrogant self-importance that, in hindsight, Shido had fanned for his own benefit.

Shido now shifts in his seat, leather creaking in the silent room.

Akechi smiles as he places the paper onto the low table in between them. In the future, Shido would hold their meetings in his office, with a large imposing table in between with nowhere for Akechi to sit as he gave his reports.

"I'm happy with these conditions. I only have a few questions I want to ask," Akechi says smoothly, bringing his hands politely back to his lap, but letting one of his fingers fidget with a seam in his pants. "What sort of apartment are you promising me? And please enlighten me now upon how I'm going to access my weekly stipends without revealing our connection."

Shido frowns, heavy brows pulling together as he draws himself forward, subtly mirroring Akechi's posture in his shoulders. Masterful. Putting pressure while still maintaining a sense of camaraderie with him. No wonder his fifteen-year-old self sank so deep, so fast.

"I have a few apartments under a different identity that you can choose from if the choice is so important to you," Shido's voice is a deep rumble with an impatient tone, carefully tempered to show that he was holding back his schedule for Akechi's unreasonable demands. _Be grateful you're even here,_ his body posture said, one of crafted dismissal. Akechi smiles, unfazed. "For the money, I will give you a card like this for you to draw your weekly funds from. I trust that you will not misuse it."

Shido smoothly pulls a credit card from his wallet and places it on the table in plain sight. It's an obvious play to appeal to his past self's thirst for power and independence, and Akechi lets himself fall into the role of a poor orphan, leaning forward with interest before controlling his expression and bowing.

"Thank you, Shido-san. If there's a selection of apartments I can browse, I will gladly accept your offer," Akechi says.

Shido's gaze is dark and assessing as he pulls a phone out of his pocket and taps out a number.

"Give me a summary of available apartments I own not under the name Masayoshi Shido," he barks into the phone before he goes back to his quiet assessment of Akechi, his fingers steepled.

Akechi smiles over his own annoyance. Vigilant as always. The quiet between them didn't last for long, however, as Shido soon passes him a pad which scrolled to show a few select apartments in Tokyo.

Glossy pictures scroll under his fingertips, of various apartments in various locations. Shibuya, Akiba, and even Roppongi pass under his fingertips, and Akechi makes sure to scroll with an appropriately excited face even as he sneered in his heart.

Last time he had been given an apartment in a nondescript residential location close enough to his school, and he hadn't questioned Shido's offer until five months in. One day, he had opened the air-conditioning unit to check how clean the filters were and found a small spy-cam.

After the initial shock, Akechi had averted his eyes, not brave enough to remove it.

Was this a powerplay by Shido or was this supposed to be hidden from him forever? That moment of indecision had lasted an eternity as he carefully ignored the spy-cam and took out the filter as if nothing was wrong. He closed the lid, near unbreathing as he walked to the washing room and chucked them in the sink. Then he power-walked to the door, hastily grabbing a scarf and hurtling outside into the snow that always came alongside Christmas.

He'd clutched a mug of hot coffee with white-lipped desperation in the café a few streets down, surrounded by Christmas jingles and happy couples, and only left when a friendly waiter started to close the shop down around him.

In the end, he returned to that apartment. It wasn't as if he had enough money to move out to his own place. Even his daily living expenses came from Shido.

Despite that, he couldn't help his finger from stopping on the cold glass of the pad when he sees a picture of his past apartment. It's a small dingy grey thing, and not even the best efforts of the photographer could've made those streaked grey walls and bare concrete flattering.

But Flat A402 had been the first and last place that he'd ever had of his own, even if it had been an illusion. His very first safe haven.

Shido interrupts his nostalgia when he lingers for a second too long.

"Have you chosen?"

Widening his smile, Akechi clicks the pad off and places it back onto the table. Just before he starts speaking, he lets his left-hand fiddle with his cuff.

"Thank you, I truly appreciate your offer, Shido-san. But may I offer a solution that may prove easier for everyone involved?"

Lean forward, tilt your head just enough to expose enough of the neck, smile focused on the eyes. This was the best opportunity – Shido did not know him yet, was trying to figure him out.

But _he_ knows Shido. 

"As you undoubtedly know, I have a full scholarship at Shogaku High. They have dormitories alongside excellent security, due to their reputation as one of the best schools in Tokyo. They also have an excellent location near Roppongi's major transit station."

Shido frowns, and Akechi didn't miss the small flash of surprise in his eyes that's quickly repressed. "You don't wish to own your own apartment?" Shido asks slowly, shifting backwards to lean on his couch without breaking eye-contact, clearly contemplating.

"No," Akechi says, and decides to throw him a bone. He still needs to appear controllable, after all. "A dormitory room will be fine, Shido-san. But I will gladly accept the credit card."

Akechi smiles, one of his more gentle ones. He knows how it makes him look less threatening, friendly and maybe even a little naive. 

Shido's eyes now holds a reassessing gleam, looking at Akechi with more interest than he'd ever had in his previous life. He writes the extra additions into the contract and gives Akechi the new copy. Now, it's absolutely clear where he would get the stipend from, and the apartment stipulation had changed to dormitory.

"Thank you. May I sign here?"

Unlike last time, his hand is steady and dry as he reaches out for the heavy fountain pen on the coffee table and signs both copies of the contract without a line out of place. In silence, Shido does the same, before handing him his copy and keeping the other himself.

There're a few seconds where the two look at each other, before Shido's shadowed eyes narrow in contemplation.

"You… may be more interesting than I thought," Shido admits, smile holding a hint of expectation.

Before Akechi can respond, the world freezes. A cold breath, a feeling like the pressure of the Other Side holds him down as a voice echoes in his head.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Devil** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Heart thundering and eyes wide, Akechi manages to fumble a "Th-thank you" instead of whatever he had planned, bowing formally before quickly walking out when Shido waves a hand in dismissal.

The hot, humid air of midsummer hits Akechi in a heavy blast of chatter, smoke, and energy, as he walks out of the beautiful elegance of the foyer back into the busy late-night streets. He pushes forward against the crowds of Tokyo, clutching the folder holding his contract close to his chest as his mind whirls. Did his refusal of Shido's offered path change Shido's role as Justice?

But moreover, did Minato… Did he reset all his Arcanas too? Was it a true reset, of everything?

With a quiet sense of panic, he reaches into that quiet place of his soul and breathes a small sigh of relief.

**Devil Rank 1 – Masayoshi Shido**

**Universe Rank 10 – Arisato Minato**

Minato is still there.

And Shido… The Devil.

Akechi hums a little at the thought that he isn't as irredeemable as he thought. His feet lead him down the street, suppressing laughter bubbling out from somewhere deep in his chest, an uncontrollable elation.

Although he would've preferred it if Minato hadn't dropped him straight in front of Shido right as they were signing their first contract (because Minato, why? Not even half an hour sooner? Even a few days would have let him avoid Shido altogether), he now has a chance to change… to change _everything._

Akira, bleeding out under his bullet, and the complicated wave of relief, guilt, anger and utter hatred when he'd come out alive, reunited with his friends, ready to tackle Shido. Akira, who had everything – a guide like Morgana, a band of friends ready to die for him on the bat. Of course he would come back alive through a miraculous plot, surrounded by friends, facing the dastardly villain of his story in righteous determination.

(Akira, all too happy to see him on a late-night, greeting him with a rare smile that he treated few people with. LeBlanc's TV turned down to a background hum, Akira listening attentively as Akechi carefully selected what to say for the day, knowing whatever he said would be accepted with a nod, a quiet quip, focused eyes. Akechi… hadn't hated that. Would have gladly left Akira alone if Shido hadn't…)

Why did their Arcana stop at Rank 9?

It's the question that buzzes in the back of his mind as it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to remember where his last foster family lives – a small apartment in Akiba, near a few neon-lighted love hotels that lit his room up in a sickly shade of pink when he slept.

Two years changes little, in the long run, but more than a few things definitely lay forgotten. Akechi stares at the security keypad until the gatekeeper, who obviously recognises him, takes pity and just buzzes him in. It's the only first-floor apartment, the cheapest one – and the corridor is dark and gloomy when he opens the door. The small dripping sounds of the kitchen faucet accompany him as he methodically takes off his shoes and pads into his room, turning on all the lights as he passes them to his room.

If he remembers correctly, the father had a major pachinko addiction, and the mother struggled to support the two as a cashier in a local store. They had only taken a foster kid in for the government benefits.

They hadn't been abusive. Not the worst he's had to live through.

His body is weirdly heavy after all the time that he's spent out of it. It's not as if he and Minato had to sleep, during their discussion in another eternity. But he's been tired enough to remember the signs. His muscles are aching, his eyes feel dry and heavy, so he flops onto his bed with a sigh and lets himself sleep for the first time since he died.

He'll plan to save the world… tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments guys. They spark delight and inspiration both. Time travel fix-its have always been my weakness so I will just try to continue delivering what I want to read haha. Your warm reception is such a nice surprise, thanks again.
> 
> Happy New Year! I hope everyone will have a lovely 2020. Wishing you guys that is why the 2nd chapter is coming so soon, (please don't expect daily updates, the next one is probs on Sat).
> 
> If anyone is wondering why Minato is a Nice Boy instead of a Blank Boy, that is because I chose all his nice convo options. He is a very pleasant young man with an unfortunate resting blank face. Poor guy gets misunderstood D:


	3. Chapter 3

The morning wakes to someone insistently holding down the buzzer, and Akechi takes a moment to glance at the bedside clock. Ten-thirty in the morning.

 _Ugh_ , after so long being dead, he'd half-forgotten what it felt like to wake up. He's never been a morning person – instead always preferring to work late nights instead of early morning. It didn't help, Akechi thinks with a grimace, that yesterday's clothes are sticking to his skin with an unpleasant grimy feeling, and his mouth smelt like something died in it.

He's entirely too tired to deal with this mess, but he gets up anyway and shuffles to the door. It's a little refreshing to not care about his appearance, now that he's not the _Second Coming of the Detective Prince_ yet.

"What is it?"

"Have you packed your bags?" Comes a booming voice, and Akechi manages to blink through his blurred eyes to see the wide, muscled shoulders of one of Shido's goons, a walking stereotype of a bodyguard in a black suit, sunglasses and a bald head nearly touching the doorframe.

"Ah yes, give me a moment, I'll be back shortly," Akechi replies on instinct before slamming the door shut.

Well, as many flaws as Shido had, he couldn't say that one was them was _inefficiency_.

Scrubbing his face with a tired hand, Akechi lets himself have a small moment of self-pity before decisively going back to the kitchen for a few spare plastic bags. There wasn't much he owned. Shoving a few sets of clothing in one of the bags and his school stuff in another, Akechi's ready to go in seconds.

"Shogaku dorms are off campus," the goon marches him forward the moment he steps out of the apartment, snappily holding the two plastic bags for him and waving him into a waiting car, before sliding in behind him. "Shido-san wishes to inform you that all of your paperwork has been passed, and you will be staying in the dorms as an emancipated minor. This is your card for your stipend." The man passes him an envelope, which Akechi slides into a pocket. "Shido-san also wishes to inform you the first experiment will be next Sunday, at 7 PM, at the same place as before. Do not be late."

Akechi nods and lets the rest of the car-ride pass in silence. The morning traffic is kind, at least. It doesn't take them long to get there.

The dorms are in a small street out of the way of the main road, and a few bicyclists on the side of the road swerve out of the way for the car – now strangely unwieldy – to lumber on through. There are a few trees in the courtyard, with flower beds lining the covered walkway that leads to the glass doors of the dorm, but Shido's man hurries Akechi forward with a stern face when he wants to linger a little to observe it all closer.

The automatic doors are unlocked, and they whoosh open in a wash of cool air to reveal a friendly-looking foyer, lined with small coffee tables and colourful chairs obviously meant to be a small social or study area.

There's a small office with an open glass wall to the side, and the old woman sitting inside drinking a cup of warm tea notices their entry immediately.

"Hello!" She greets, high and a little reedy as she moves as quickly as she can towards them, out of the office and stopping in front of them to give a small conservative bow in greeting. Akechi quickly bows back, although Shido's goon just stands there, an eternal glower on his face.

"Hello, I'm Goro Akechi. It's very nice to meet you…?"

The old woman laughs with her whole body, smile lines carved deep in her face as a testament to a satisfied life. It's impossible not to feel a little warmed by the smile she shoots them, and Akechi let his own smile warm a few more degrees in response.

"I'm Ise Saito, the landlord. It's very nice to meet such a nice young man as you, Akechi-kun," she smiles before it cools a little as she looks at the bodyguard behind him. "I've heard about your circumstances; you don't need to worry about a single thing while you're here."

That gives him a pause, before the smile on his face stretches a little farther.

"Thank you, Saito-san."

His politeness obviously makes her happy, her eyes folding into crescents as she leads them both towards her office.

"Your arrival was quite abrupt, but thankfully a group of kids from Kosei recently moved out because of internships in other prefectures," Saito's chatter is friendly as she pushes open her office.

Akechi automatically builds a profile from a glimpse of a private space – there are childish doodles that are proudly displayed on the walls, the art styles implying at least three grandchildren, at least one older than twelve. There is a photo frame that features Saito alongside her husband, with two beaming women with babies in their arms. The place is clean, and there's half-finished knitting that she had obviously put down to greet them.

A normal, rather warm, family-oriented person. Community-oriented too, since Akechi spots a half-hidden basket of knitted toys under her desk that holds the tell-tale sticker of a nearby children's hospital on the side.

She heads to a rack of keys hung on the wall, giving Akechi a look over her shoulder.

"There are three single rooms available right now, one on the second floor, and two on the third, but if you want a larger room there's still a boy up on the fifth floor that doesn't have a roommate—"

"He'll have a single room," interrupts the bodyguard as he crosses his arms. Saito gives him an unimpressed glance before looking at Akechi with her smile.

"Well, dear?"

"The single room on the second floor sounds great, Saito-san."

"Alright, the second-floor room it is," she smiles, snatching a key from the rack and waving the two over.

Akechi follows, but the man behind him taps him on the shoulder and gives him back the two plastic bags.

"I must leave. Do not forget to arrive next week."

He leaves without waiting for an answer, hand already on his ear and obviously onto his next job. Akechi is left with two plastic bags in his hands and Saito, who has paused on the stairs in the foyer, watching with a frown and pursed lips.

When he joins her, she gives him a pat on the arm and leads him upwards.

"The second floor is the only one which is reached by a staircase," Saito explains, leading him upwards and going down the resultant hallway illuminated by fluorescents. "Number 205. If you have any issues with plumbing or replacements, just come down and tell me. I'm here from nine to five from Mondays to Saturdays. I don't mind a chat either," she smiles as she hands him the key. "The door is locked by 5 PM. Use the tag on the key to beep yourself in if you're later than that, okay?"

"No problems, Saito-san," Akechi replies calmly. "I'm sure I'll settle down smoothly."

After a few more pleasantries, the old lady slowly goes back down the stairs and Akechi heads inside.

A small shoe area with a few cupboards and bag-hooks, a toilet-shower combo to his left in the small hallway before opening to a bright room with a bed and a desk and a stretch of floor between the two. A window looking out into the neighbourhood shines directly into his eyes as he closes the door behind him, and Akechi shucks off his shoes and chucks his two bags onto the floor. Then he flops a little undignified onto the hardwood and _breathes_ for the first time.

The floor is cool under his back, and he finds himself staring at the air-conditioning vents. They are a little old, but white and clean.

This time, Shido couldn't have bugged the place. The very fact Saito had offered him a choice of rooms told him that.

The room is pleasant too. He lets his eyes wander the space - some spots where the paint is a little darker because the previous tenant stuck some photos up, by the size of the shadow, and the peachy tone of the wall lights up the whole room in a near golden hue. Although his past apartment had been bigger and designed in professional colours befitting how close the apartment was to the business blocks, the loss of professionalism for this peach-pink is surprisingly okay, even though he knew if he was _actually_ fifteen, he'd want something more adult.

At least, there are no memories to make anything about this new room bitter.

The faint smell of perfume tells him a girl was the previous tenant, a hint of jasmine that lingers in the air that'll fade away soon enough.

Akechi is tempted to doze off, but he forces himself up to take a shower and brush his teeth, putting on a casual combo of a hoodie he doesn't remember owning along with a pair of jeans. He shoves the rest of his belongings where they belong before heading out.

In the mirror on the back of the door, Akechi looks like the dishevelled teen he had always disdained to never be, and he couldn't help but keep a laugh inside, toeing shoes on.

Let's familiarise himself with the Tokyo of the past again.  


* * *

  
His Metanav app beeps in all the familiar places as he walks the familiar streets of Shibuya, the Sunday afternoon filling the streets with all sorts of laughing teens and families heading to who knows where. Restaurants and cafes are filled to the brim with people resting from the heat during lunchtime, and Akechi finds himself weaving through the crowds without much destination in mind.

Last time, he had always been willingly on call. There are no breaks, he realised with Minato's gentle concern, when you cling onto something as desperately as he did. When desperation hits a certain point, a person can even become eager to do anything they can to maintain the status quo. Last time, on weekends where he was allowed some time off, he usually cruised through Tokyo's most famous spots to keep up with the trends, making meticulous notes in his notebook so that he had a conversational topic on hand for anyone he encountered. Shido also approved when he could entertain any adult associates appropriately, and he'd burned with vicious pride when he exceeded expectations there, at least.

Those habits weren't helpful now, of course. Akechi didn't even have a food blog to post on.

The workaholic in him feels a little sketchy just wandering around with no purpose, a nagging sense that he could be using his time better, but when his stomach grumbles he finds that he's already wandered to…

Maybe it was inevitable, he thinks with a humourless laugh.

The small bell jingles when he enters Café LeBlanc.

Nothing's changed.

Except the lack of Sayuri on the wall, the smell of curry and coffee, the seats, even Sojiro Sakura at the counter cleaning glasses – it's all the same.

A deep "Welcome," is his only gruff greeting, and Akechi folds himself into a seat after ordering a plate of LeBlanc's special curry. He's the only customer inside right now, the only other sounds coming from the fans spinning slowly on the ceiling and the TV deeper inside.

If he closes his eyes, its Akira at the counter absent-mindedly stirring the pot of curry and ladling it out onto a plate, putting it down in front of him with a smile with that little mischievous edge generally reserved for the Phantom Thieves. His curly hair sometimes curled even more when exposed to steam, glasses a little fogged up. A memory, of a moment of tentative peace. Akira hadn't asked any questions, letting slip inane details about Morgana, school, exams now and again through the clink of washing glasses. Footsteps round the bar towards him, Akira carefully manoeuvring because he always poured too much curry onto Akechi's plate when he ordered, as always.

"Your curry," came the low tone of Sojiro.

Akechi opens his eyes and smiles. "Thank you," he replies, and digs in.

It's peaceful here, and LeBlanc is close enough to his dorm this time that perhaps he can come more often. Akechi savours the moment, before heading to the counter and paying the bill. He exits the cool interior of the café to balmy air again, Tokyo not having cooled an iota even though the sky is starting to get shot through with pink.

Hmm, he muses.

He's relaxed enough, and he's gotten used to his 15-year-old body.

Time to get to business.  


* * *

  
First, he goes to a nearby bank and pulls out his whole weekly allowance in cash.

He knows more than anyone, as a former detective, that your credit history can teach you way more than you'd expect.

If it's available, it's obvious with a glance what a person is like merely by their purchases. A modest person would mostly have their purchases in food and basic utilities. People more flamboyant may visit specialty stores and brands, and it shows how much they care about trends by how frequently they go to the store. What they buy are clear hints to what influences them in their daily lives as well. If they frequently overdraw their credit card or make purchases that are greater than their financial means, it often means irresponsibility, or some other major event in life that they might need a distraction from.

What types of foods did they eat? Where did they go to, during the day? Writing up a schedule of habits and quirks can be easy through looking at spending habits over a few months.

Too many things can be read.

Shido's every provision in that contract had been a trap. Akechi's entire financial status right now is dependent on him and the only money he has available comes from the card… A card that ultimately belongs to Shido, who has full unrestricted access to analyse every single purchase he'll ever make.

When he was actually fifteen, he had fallen into this trap easily.

Well, Akechi thought absentmindedly while queuing for the ATM, eyes on a bird that landed on a lamp-post nearby. Not this time.

The wad of cash is quickly put into a newly bought wallet, and he bothers to walk a few streets to his favourite clothing store. The clerk is obviously confused at a scruffy teenager coming into a store dedicated to the upper-middle-class, but a mixture of well-placed smiles, compliments and lies brings her to Akechi's side recommending outfits in no time.

"Your father wants you to buy something suitable for a sort of business-casual interview, right?"

The clerk hums, bright lipstick stark against her pale face. A quick assessment shows her nails are carefully manicured, and her hair is kept professionally in a bun, all colours carefully matched with her glasses. Personal care is obviously something important to her, paired with a good business ethic. Any recommendations of style will be well thought out.

"Yes," Akechi says bashfully. "Well, as you can see," he waves vaguely to his hoodie and jeans, "I'm not really used to stuff like that, but my dad had to go on a business trip, so I have to prepare by myself… Don't worry, I can pay!" He adds the last bit in a fluster, and the lady gives him a sympathetic look.

"Honey, don't worry, you're in safe hands," she says. "Hmm, you should be around this size…"

The next twenty minutes have them bustling around colour choices – the shop clerk matches Akechi's expectations, choosing the more earthy tones that his professional stylists had back when he had to do TV appearances. They ultimately end up with Akechi wearing a comfortable shirt and pants combo, with a well-cut jacket to complement the look. The style is a bit young but acceptable, and Akechi happily hands over the cash needed for the outfit. His old clothes are placed in a plastic bag.

"If I'm going to recommend something hun," the clerk smiles, "I'd get a haircut too if I were you. There's a really good place with pretty cheap prices around the corner."

"Thank you very much," he smiles shyly, fidgeting with his collar. "I'll do as you say."

"Good luck on your interview!" She calls, but he's already walked out the door.

On the street, he lets himself savour the familiar feeling of a good jacket despite the heat – the slight stiffness aside, it's familiar and comforting. It's with confidence that he steps into the hairdresser's, his smile bright even as the overpowering chemical smell of hair spray and shampoo floods his nose.

"Hello, I was wondering if there were any availabilities for an impromptu haircut…?"

"Oh, come in, come in!" The hairdresser drops her phone onto her counter and nearly bounds her way to Akechi. "It's been a quiet afternoon today! What are you looking for?"

"It's for an interview, and I haven't kept up with my hair for a while," Akechi fakes a grimace, and the hairdresser bobs her head.

"I see, I see. Well," she squints as she quickly seats him in front of a mirror. "You have beautiful hair, and bone structure to match. I'll see what I can do."

What comes out is a little shorter than he imagined for himself – not as short as Akira's hair, but definitely not brushing the shoulders as it had before – but Akechi figures it'll grow.

"Thanks," he says as he gives the required payment. "I feel more confident for my interview already!"

"Go get them, tiger!" The hairdresser shoots him a double thumbs-up, and Akechi only smiles again and walks away, letting the smile slip into something more unassuming as he wades through the late afternoon crowd.

He adjusts the collar of his coat and brushes his new clothing down when he reaches the Police Headquarters.

Now his true goal.  


* * *

  
"I heard there was a new internship offer available for people still in school?"

When the receptionist at the counter looks at Akechi's impeccable dressing and polite smile, she softens a little, just as he knew she would. Maika-san always had a soft spot for kids and young people, especially well-behaved ones, and she was only going to leave her job a few months before he dies.

"Yes, there's a new program for the general police program. The availability is up online, as well as all the requirements for it." Maika grunts a little as she bends down to get some paperwork that she offers to him. "But if you want more information, here's a list of available opportunities we have for students and graduates."

Akechi takes the list with a smile, and noting no-one behind him, keeps standing there are he scans the list.

He's not here to make connections with the general police. There should be an opportunity posted around now, in June 2014… But it isn't there.

Akechi smooths over his frown, looking up with a slightly bewildered smile.

"Um, may I ask, are there any opportunities with the Investigations Department? I've always admired detectives, you see, and so…"

"Hmm," Maika takes back the page and scans it herself. "Well… I suppose it can't hurt to tell you. I've heard from the grapevine that there might be a new internship for the Investigation's Department that might start soon, but you might have to wait and see."

"Oh, I see," Akechi's reply is slightly disappointed, and Maika gives a sympathetic noise.

"It should be posted soon on the website. Here, I'll write it down for you!"

She quickly scribbles out a link and hands it over to him, and Akechi takes it with two hands.

"Thank you very much!" He exclaims, exchanging a few more pleasantries before leaving the centre.

It's verging on darkness as he steps back into Tokyo's commute, still as crowded as ever as families start leaving and their younger counterparts take to the streets. A nearby convenience store has a few onigiri that he buys for dinner, and he absentmindedly eats them as he heads back to the dorm.

Hmm, checking the website might be a little hard since he doesn't have a computer. How much does a laptop cost again?  


* * *

  
The next day he decides the computers in the school library suffice for now, and Shogaku's facilities do not disappoint.

He lets the days pass as he waits. Most of the students here are well-mannered and stick to their own social circles. At the start of the year, Akechi made sure to mingle with the absolute minimum of benign nicety that didn't get him far into their circles but friendly enough. It leaves him time to think and plan as he listens with half-an-ear in class to make sure he knew the material.

It's Wednesday when he sees any change on the website Maika gave him.

An offer at the prosecutor's office, standard application procedures apply, CV, two-page address, etc. etc.

He's pre-written everything and scanned it onto a USB, and it's a moment's job to submit it all.

Last time, being a Detective Prince had been only logical.

There were three main reasons.

First, Shido's many contacts in the Prosecutor's Office made it easy to achieve. Secondly, Shido wanted to control the government response towards the increased buzz in the public about the mental shutdowns so nothing could link to how convenient some of those deaths were to Shido's cause and hurt his presidential bid. Third, Akechi needed to have more presence in the public to get deeper into Mementos anyway.

Having Akechi controlling the cases for the mental shutdowns and simultaneously gain fame as a young genius suited both their needs – Shido for convenience, and Akechi for his new addiction for approval.

And, even now, despite knowing how it all had ended…

In the end, Akechi had _liked_ being a detective.

  


("It's a case of parental abuse," Akechi once let slip to Akira, when they 'accidentally' bumped into one another in Shinjuku. "Sorry if I'm a little tired today – we've settled the facts now, and I'm sure we have enough evidence, but the judge has always been partial to mothers and women, and we're not sure if she'll get indicted even if she did starve her son into prolonged hospitalisation…"

Akechi had winced inside, the conversation edging onto territory a little too genuine for his tastes, scolding himself for falling into Akira's rhythm so easily. There was an air of trustworthiness in Akira, a steadiness that no-one could stop being attracted to.

"The path of Justice never did run smooth," Akira replied after a short pause, before tilting his head slightly and peering at Akechi over his glasses. "You're the Detective Prince. I know you'll work it out. But more than that, believe in yourself, Akechi. You're—"

A car honked in front of them alongside a hearty splash of rainwater that threatened to reach their shoes, swallowing the rest of what Akira said. A hot flash of annoyance coursed through Akechi even as he simultaneously felt a frisson of pride from the confidence in Akira's tone. This time, he'd worked just as hard as Sae. His smile was genuine that time as he tore his gaze away from Akira's face and looked down.

"Well, I'm hardly the detective you think me to be… But thank you anyway, Akira."

Akira bumped his shoulders to his, and Akechi tried not to flinch back at the contact. There was a raindrop that had caught the ends of one of Akira's curls, he remembers, threatening to drip down onto his lazy curl of a smile. He'd wanted to, his hands had started moving… But Akira started talking, grey eyes looking forward as they neared another road.

"Tell me if you need help. You know we'll back you up.")

  


There are many things he wants to change in this second life of his, and one of them is the fact that Shido had kept his Detective Prince on such a short leash, banning him from doing any more cases by keeping him within the circles of corrupt police, and stopping him from knowing anyone who had the power to recommend him on talents he _knew_ he had outside of Shido's influence. Sae and he had bonded because of this, being so noticeably suppressed by their superiors. As few real cases as he had seen, the ones that he had helped solve had filled him with a confidence that didn't flicker as hard as the applause that came from a live audience during a TV show.

And… although this may be presumptive of him, Akechi wants to be Akira's Justice again.

True rivals, this time.

It's a little romantic, isn't it? A detective and a hidden phantom thief, friends in real life, fighting for different ideals in another. In the end, they find that their justice is the same when the truth reveals the two to each other. Like Featherman R, like those shounen mangas who fought for their friends. Perhaps this time, he could be worthier rival.

The corner of Akechi's mouth ticked upwards involuntarily.

And by taking initiative, perhaps being a detective wouldn't be another favour given from Shido's all-encompassing hand.

The lunch bell rings then, and students all around him stand up to prepare to go back to class. He does the same, closing all the tabs and logging out, filing behind all these other students with his benign smile back on his face, mind already whirring forward to Sunday, now that his current goal has been fulfilled.

Shido's experiments with him and the Metaverse…

Akechi nods to a classmate who held open the door for him, settling back at his desk and pulling out his Mathematics textbook, humming in thought. Little flickers of ideas flit through his mind, some kept, some discarded, some allowed to roam a little further to develop even as the teacher enters, starting to lecture on geography. His pen taps absentmindedly on his notebook as he looks out the window over a sun-drenched Tokyo.

He needs a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos guys. I'm glad Minato wasn't ooc for you guys :D It's Saturday for me, so here's the chapter! I think I might stick to Sat from now on it'll be easy to organise for me. I hope you enjoyed, things are gonna be slow for a bit while Akechi plots stuff.  
> Btw some of your theories made me think and get inspired, so haha, thanks for that too. :) See you next week.


	4. Chapter 4

Sunday rolls around quicker than he expects, homework not exactly hard but time-consuming, and during the week he had been busy making purchases here and there for his new room. Basic cutlery and plates for one, and when he looked at the price of a small rice cooker, he'd resigned himself to buying it the week after… after the laptop.

As generous as Shido's weekly stipend currently is, he's banned himself from drawing any more than the limit.

Every day for the past week he's checked his dorm room for any bugs Shido may have slipped in, but perhaps it's too much effort to rig a room that's not already pre-prepared. No matter his best efforts, Akechi can't find anything recording his activities.

He lets himself relax by Saturday, setting the small cactus that the old lady, Saito, gifted him when he came back from school on the windowsill. Something about buying it spontaneously for her grandkid before realising that a cactus wouldn't go well in the post, with which they had shared a little laughter before Akechi retired to his room holding the plant and Saito went back to her office.

It looks good against the bare room, a little splotch of spiky green in the gentle pink of the wallpaper, the light hitting that perfect slant that gave the air a touch of rose-gold. When he did his homework that day at his desk, tiny diamond dust motes floated in the still air, shifting only with his breath.

Nothing manages to ruin the rest of the day, as the quiet and warmth of the afternoon melds into a vibrant, violent streaked sunset that paints the clouds into a veritable watercolour kingdom. Akechi finishes his homework with time to spare, with which he treats himself with a short trip to LeBlanc, Sojiro's curry and the calm atmosphere a perfect complement to his pleasant evening.

He sleeps soundly that night, waking refreshed to tackle the impending problem.

Sunday meant Shido.

Currently, he still holds the advantage. He has done his best to not let Shido pry into his life, while he had two and a half years of knowledge on him.

Secondly, there's only two sources of information Shido can gain of the Metaverse.

One is him.

As the only known person to fully enter the Metaverse right now, as long as Shido trusts him, what Akechi says will be considered truth as it comes straight from the source.

The second source is Wakaba Ishikki's research.

Ishikki, one of his first murder-by-shadows.

She was… the third one? The fourth one?

If he remembers correctly, Ishikki's murder was two months into Shido's experiments. Today was June 1st, right at the beginning of summer.

The day had been a hot one, the Metaverse filled with burning Shadows as he crept through its dark hallways and ended up in front of Ishikki's. August heat had transferred into everyone's consciousness through moans and complaints of how the heat was making everything so much _harder_.

In contrast, Ishikki's Shadow had been calm – had stared at the end of his gun with a sort of resignation. She had only said two things.

"So, it's time."

And,

"I'm sorry… Futaba."

Akechi remembers he had been feeling the heat himself, and just shot the Shadow without much care. Ishikki had tried to put up a fight but was ultimately too weak against Robin Hood (Loki had appeared... later), dissipating into wisps sooner than he'd expected.

Murder is easy, especially if they were just a shadowy exaggerated mockery of their true selves with blazing yellow eyes. Shadows shed no blood, after all.

Now that he thinks about it, he never really did get to see Ishikki's notes on the Metaverse. Shido took them all away before he even had a chance to. In fact, all Akechi had been allowed to know was a once-off flash of regret in Shido's eyes when Akechi reported that Ishikki's mind had broken down.

"It's a shame. She was a true genius," was all Shido ever said before he was dismissed to get back to his own life.

To be honest, Akechi hadn't even really known who she was, her importance, and what she did until Futaba Sakura.

But now…

Akechi rests his chin onto his folded hands in thought, looking at his calendar.

She's still alive.

Furthermore, she and Sojiro Sakura are close friends.

He smiles, rising up to get dressed. In the mirror, he's satisfied to see an impeccably dressed teen – casual enough to not raise eyebrows, but well-kept to a point where adults would look at him favourably. It's enough for upkeeping Shido's expectations of him as a petty gold-digging, attention-seeking teen, but it's also enough for someone like Wakaba Ishikki, a mother of a kid similar in age.

Akechi wouldn't mind getting a genius as an ally.  


* * *

  
The day passes quickly. After leaving his dorm, waving to Saito-san continuing her knitting in her office as he did so, he goes to a nearby library to check into his emails and see whether he's accepted to the investigation's internship yet.

No response.

Well, as he expected really, he thinks as he clicks out of the browser and takes a small walk around the fiction section, eyes lingering on a few new (old) volumes of Featherman R before leaving.

He spends the rest of the day casually, scouting the city to familiarise himself with Tokyo again. This time, he chooses Akiba, and the vibrant youth culture and various pop and niche culture stalls wash over him in a wave of chatter. There's a slight breeze that's wafting through the streets today, enough to make his hair ruffle, but warm enough to make people grimace.

At 7 PM sharp he walks into Shido's fancy apartment from last week. At the bell, a maid opens the door, face young and pretty, and Akechi tries not to feel disgusted that the girl's age is barely older than his own. She couldn't possibly have been more than twenty, and there's only one reason why Shido would want a young and pretty maid in his private apartment, after all.

Shido's indiscretions are wide and vast, Akechi thinks, dry. He should've gotten used to it by now.

"Shido-sama's in the study room," the girl says quietly as Akechi takes his shoes off and puts them to the side, handing him a pair of slippers. "It's the first room you see to the right past the living room."

"Thank you," Akechi smiles pleasantly at the girl, before padding his way past the living room where he'd negotiated before, the night-view still a stunning visage to the left, before he knocking on the door the maid had indicated.

"Come in," Shido's voice rumbles and Akechi takes his cue.

As expected, the large study is dimly lit, with one large desk with Shido seated… and no seat for him. He stands in front instead, comfortably putting his hands in his pockets where his mobile is, his screen unlocked with the MetaNav open.

"What have you been doing this week?" Shido opens, his eyes already taken in Akechi's change in clothes, his confident demeanour.

"School," Akechi provides. At Shido's near imperceptible frown for more information, he adds, "there was a Japanese History assignment. The dorm is comfortable."

"Are you sure you don't wish for your own apartment?" Shido asks, and Akechi gives a polite chuckle.

"I've already settled down where I am so please don't worry about me, Shido-san."

He looks up and tries to breathe normally at Shido's assessing gaze. In the past, Shido had always looked at Akechi with a marked disinterest, his gaze always a step past where Akechi always stood, distracted, no matter what Akechi did or tried to impress him with.

He doesn't really want to guess what he has done to make Shido look at him now with such intense focus.

"Are we going to begin experimentation now?" Akechi asks when the pause stretches a little too long, and Shido doesn't seem to acknowledge that he had gotten lost in thought.

"Show me how you enter the Metaverse," Shido says abruptly, his eyes glittering with a dark interest that Akechi politely ignores.

"Alright," Akechi shrugs, and the hand holding his phone in his pocket taps the MetaNav button alongside the motion. As if by magic, the world around them starts to warp, and Shido disappears from his vision.

The apartment is silent. The higher up you enter the Metaverse, the clearer it is. There are no shadows, no distortions. No birds or the sounds of the young maid in the kitchen.

He moves immediately. Crossing the room, he looks at the papers left on Shido's desk.

Mementos is the amalgamation of everyone's hearts – that's true. That's why the dark underground is a maze, where Shadows love to lurk as they're symbolically hidden from the greater world around them.

But up in a fancy high-rise, everyone's dreams of the rich are reflected here, keeping everything luxurious and immaculate. It's hard to get up here, usually. Many apartments are broken in the Metaverse, and elevator shafts and stairwells are often broken or out of reach, making the rich elite even further to grasp. Most importantly though, is that this is _Shido's_ private space, and _his own_ personal feelings and thoughts will be reflected the most. Akechi had been banking on that, as he starts rifling through all the documents.

Half of the papers on the desk are blank – deemed by Shido's cognition as unimportant.

The other half Akechi quickly takes a photo of each – even if there's only one sentence on the page, it's a sentence that Shido's paid attention to. He quickly reaches into the desk's drawers too, taking a picture of _everything_. Photos, file names, everything he can reach. He takes special care to take a picture of all three types of Shido's signature and saves all of it in the encrypted storage location on his phone

There's a vicious sort of satisfaction in doing this, and Akechi hums a little as he steps back and stands right back where he started.

Turning Shido's paranoia to his advantage…

Feels good.

Akechi checks the time (five minutes), and carefully wipes any satisfaction off his face. He jogs a little, making himself sweat. He has always been the type to flush easily… and there you go.

He exits the Metaverse, and Shido warps back into his chair, one of his fingers tapping the chair in impatience.

"Sorry," Akechi says apologetically, a little out of breath, a smile that's fishing for sympathy on his face. "Going to the Metaverse takes a little out of me. I'm sure it'll get better with time."

Just like last time, Shido asks him a series of questions.

How do you get into the Metaverse? _I just focus… and suddenly the world is different._ What do you see? _Generally, there are the Shadows of other people when I entered the Metaverse from the ground. It's a distorted version of reality, in summary._ Shadows? _Everyone has something they have to hide, and they seem to manifest in that other reality._

It's a back and forth that Akechi has prepared for, and nothing really blindsides him. The first few sessions are tame after all, as Shido is still reaping information from him and Wakaba Ishikki.

After an hour of going in and out of the Metaverse a few more times and answering more questions, Shido hums.

"That's enough for today. Good job," Shido adds, and Akechi reacts like he knows how his younger self would to the praise, quickly hiding a delighted smile under his normal façade.

"Anytime, Shido-san. Next week?"

"Actually, use this." Akechi strides forward to pick up the P.A.D. that Shido gives him, and it's a familiar weight in his hand. "I'll contact you through this – we'll be switching locations next week."

"Okay, Shido-san," Akechi smiles as he pockets the new phone. "I will see you next week."

With an impatient grunt, Shido has already looked back down at his papers and Akechi knows to leave as silently as he can. Outside, the smell of steamed fish and vegetables hits his nose as he beelines straight for the door before there's a last authoritative command from behind.

"Wait. Akechi."

Akechi doesn't as much freeze as he gently lets out a breath and pivots on his heel. Shido's at the doorway, eyeing the maid cooking in the kitchen, before his attention rests back on him.

"I heard you applied for an internship at the police Investigation's department."

"Yes, I have some free time as my studies at Shogaku are less strenuous than expected. Thinking of my future, I wished to hold some internships related to law enforcement and such, as I always had an interest in those areas."

It's a good honour-student response, and Shido just replies with a scrutinising _hmm_.

"If you wish me to, I can help you get a higher position in a higher division, such as the Special Investigation's Department."

"No." Akechi replies on instinct. He has to swallow his surprise before he tacks on, "That's not necessary, thank you."

Shido had never offered anything in his past life past contracts. Akechi had always been the one manipulating, pushing, implying, and scheming to get to where he'd been in the past, with Shido handing out favours when he saw fit. Why was he offering this now?

Was he concerned about how his control measures had failed? Did he want to add more debt?

"This is just something casual to fill the time and my future resumé," Akechi continues, pleasant smile firmly on his face. "It won't affect my activities with you at all, Shido-san."

There's a moment where Shido is still, his eyes considering Akechi, before his face turns into a smirk.

"I see," Shido replies, and Akechi pushes back a spike of alarm that goes through his spine.

That tone.

That's the tone whenever Shido got what he wanted.

"Goodbye, Akechi," Shido says now, a touch smug and detached as he heads towards the maid in the kitchen who has already put down her utensils. She's batting her eyelashes, twirling one of her apron strings with a teasing finger, and Akechi forces himself to relax and reply with light 'good evening, Shido-san'.

As he walks away, his hands involuntarily find where the bullethole had once been in his chest.

 _It's alright,_ he has to tell himself. _You have a lot of material to sift through to predict what Shido's planning, and you remember every single one of your hits. You know who is in his faction, and who will be seen as a threat. And even if Shido grows as strong as he does in your past life, the Phantom Thieves will bring him down. Just a bunch of renegade teens will bring him to his knees. You're fine._

His heart is beating.

_Don't waste your life on Shido. Stick to your plan._

Akechi breathes in the smog of Tokyo streets, a bus drives down the street in a plume of black smoke. He lets himself sit in a small eating area in a convenience store, the unflattering fluorescent lights making every tired businessman around him look like tired ghosts, all eating within their own isolation. It's a shared misery that soothes Akechi when he stands up and chucks his rubbish in the bin, footsteps steadier now as he heads back to the dorm.

He wishes that Shido didn't affect him so much. Shido would hardly whip out a gun and kill him now, he was still a valuable resource.

But emotions, as always, are illogical.

  


* * *

  
The next afternoon after school finds him in LeBlanc, a cap over his hair as he finishes his curry. Over at the bar table is a bespectacled woman who is currently teasing a tired Sojiro Sakura, happily sharing cute stories of her daughter for the past fifteen minutes.

There's a moment where Sojiro grumpily tells Wakaba to watch the shop for a bit as he goes upstairs to get something, and that's when Akechi stands up, drawing his facemask back over his face and heads towards the door.

When he passes the woman, he pauses, as if checking his pockets.

"Wakaba Ishikki. This is about Shido. Meet me outside in five minutes. You may be in danger. Do not alert anyone."

Patting his pockets as if satisfied his phone and wallet are still there, he heads outside and crosses the road, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it like any other bored teen waiting for his friends. It's only been four minutes when LeBlanc's doors open again, and Wakaba Ishikki's laughter is suddenly loud on the street.

"Stop being such a sour puss, Sojiro! I'll come back later; I can't help it that I've forgotten my wallet~"

Contrary to her laughing off a few unsavoury mumbles from behind, Ishikki's eyes are sharp beneath her glasses. Akechi nods at her and starts down the street towards Shibuya Station in a bid for her to follow.

A few alleyways down, Akechi ducks into an old izakaya, where he knows there are partitioned stalls. Although there are dusty security cameras in the corners, Akechi also knows that the old couple had stopped servicing them years ago. There will be a brawl here in three months, and the old couple fail to provide footage, claiming they thought it was a waste of electricity.

It's knowledge that comes handy now.

There are already a bunch of hardy locals inside in the early evening, rowdy after work, and Akechi smiles sunnily at the old woman behind the counter under his mask.

"Me and my ma want a cubicle please!" He says happily, tone pitched young, and the old lady bobs her head.

"Alright, head on into the back," the old lady smiles just as Ishikki pushes through the flaps of the doorway behind him, following Akechi as he takes off his shoes and slides into a small cubicle. They both seat face to face with their knees nearly touching, and the small cloth barrier that sections their space off from the rest of the izakaya only hangs down to their knees. The loudness of the neighbouring group outside is sufficient though, and Akechi starts by taking off his cap and face mask.

"Kid, don't say I'm your mother ever again," is Ishikki's first demand. "Second, why the fuck is Shido sending me a kid?"

Akechi faces her with one of his television smiles, folding his hands in his lap.

"Ishikki-san, may I interest you with a proposal?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the fic hit 100+ kudos, and your comments were uplifting yet again. Thanks guys :D  
> I wish you all the best.  
> See you next week ^^


	5. Chapter 5

Wakaba Ishikki is not a small woman – she is surprisingly tall, and her blunt bob frames a surprisingly pretty face. She's young to be a mother of a thirteen-year-old, and she's kept herself well despite obviously not caring much for it. She's currently frowning hard though, at the select photos that he had chosen to print from yesterday, containing information that he thought would help his case against Shido.

"I assume Shido asked you for some of your hypothesis and research questions a few days ago," Akechi is saying now, leaning over the juice he had ordered when the waiter came. "You were doomed the moment you did so, as you will be the only one who can both suspect and somewhat prove that Shido's future crimes in the Metaverse are related to him."

Wakaba finishes scanning his photos quickly, and she brings a hand to massage the bridge of her nose.

"Kid," Wakaba says, "you come here claiming that one of my most major sponsors is planning to kill me, but all I see in these photos are his training plans for you. It's just like," she squints, "have X enter the Metaverse – how many times? Side effects?"

Akechi interrupts, pointing at the end of the page. "And when you look at the bottom, he's highlighted your hypothesis that actions in the Meta-cognitive world may have a feedback loop to reality. There's even a list of actions he wants me to take against the Shadows of people. Conversation, interrogation, violence… It's all there." Akechi straightens his back, keeping his smile pleasant. "No matter how much you appreciate Shido, Ishikki-san, you must realise that he's not the most upright of politicians."

A loud chorus of shouts break their conversation, as some of the guys outside chant for one of their friends to _'Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!'_ Loud cheers follow as someone obviously does so, and Wakaba grimaces at the noise.

"He's mentioned he's gunning for election before," Wakaba allows after their ears stop ringing, and Akechi inclines his head.

"And the only reason he's interested in me is because of the potentials the Metaverse holds for him and his election."

_Potentials._

Like information, interrogation, and 'violence' in a parallel world without justice except their own.

It's obvious what Akechi's implying.

The only few people who know the full details of Shido and Akechi's arrangement are the two of them – but Wakaba is a third party supplying her research to Shido because of his sponsorship. In the future, Wakaba will see her hypothesis come to life as various members of Shido's political opponents start having breakdowns from 'stress', put two and two together, and realise that she's become an accomplice for serial murders.

Then she'll realise the full extent of why Shido had invested so much into her… and how her worth was now over. She would realise that she'll be next, furiously research the mental breakdowns in an attempt to overthrow Shido first, tell the threat to her life to Sojiro Sakura and ultimately throw herself into traffic and die without anyone knowing it was murder.

Looking at it subjectively, it's quite a tragic fate. Anyone would want to avoid this, surely. 

But this Wakaba shakes her head, brows twisted in doubt, a scientist through and through.

"Look, you need more evidence than this," she says and Akechi nods. Of course. The more criminal experimentation hasn't even started yet, and his dramatic invitation has already served its cause by allowing him to speak to Wakaba privately. At least he's learnt a few things - Wakaba hadn't trusted Shido fully even when she was safe, she is logical, independent, and intelligent. Even if she doesn't believe Akechi now, he's sure that she's the sort to take caution once the seed of an idea has been planted. It is more than enough for a first meeting, but Akechi has always wanted _more_. This isn't the alliance he wants, not yet.

"I expected this," he admits, chugging his juice down in one go and putting his mask and cap back on. "I don't expect you to believe me right away, but if you can continue to humour me, please follow me again."

Akechi pays the bill at the counter and leaves. The night is dark now, and the dingy street that the izakaya is in is only lit by the yellow squares of light from various small stalls and shops. Enough people are milling and chattering about that Akechi frowns, before heading into a narrow alleyway blocked by a bin. He moves it to the side while Wakaba follows behind in confusion, her high heels clacking against the ground.

"This is disgusting," Wakaba grimaces, edging carefully around the bin. "I hope you're not lying to me or trying to kidnap me or anything. I've taken self-defence classes before, you know."

Her arms are completely devoid of muscle definition.

"Ah," Akechi smiles. "I'll be thankful if you don't use those on me, Ishikki-san. You look like you throw a mean punch."

Wakaba snorts at that. "Yeah, stop with the insincerity, kid. Just do what you need to do. I'm quite a busy woman, you know?"

"Your hand please," Akechi nods in acquiescence, his other hand already with the MetaNav out and Mementos tapped into the box.

His heartbeat thuds loudly. Nervousness, perhaps.

He feels confident about entering the Metaverse before Shido because even in his previous life, Shido had never been one of the people who was ever sucked in when Akechi engaged the MetaNav app. Akechi, similarly, had only ever started up the MetaNav app when he was alone because of Shido's warnings of what he would do if someone found out his Metaverse abilities in his previous life.

Judging by the stories the Phantom Thieves had told him though, all you need sometimes is to loiter around the same area and the MetaNav will automatically suck you in. Ann Takamaki and Yusuke Kitagawa had both been more than forthcoming when he asked in his last life.

He's banking on that. He's _gambling_ on this.

When Wakaba's hands touch his, he taps the app and the world warps around him.

And Wakaba Ishikki does not disappear.

Three blinks later, Wakaba has already torn her hand from his, stumbling back down the alleyway the way they came. It's utter silence – the lights are gone, the world dimmed into dark and gloomy shadow, and red light edges the buildings into looming spectres. Izakayas, street stalls, the smell of frying gyoza and ramen have all disappeared. The night has no stars, and somehow even the air is more sinister.

"What the _fuck?_ " Wakaba yells, staring.

Akechi emerges from the alleyway behind her, his smile unchanged. Stepping around the bin and glancing around the familiar scene, he can't help but sketch a small bow when Wakaba wheels on him.

"Welcome to the Metaverse, Ishikki-san."  


* * *

  
There are no Shadows on the surface, but there are the vague bleeding lumps of darkness, crumbling buildings and rubble that they pass that obviously make Wakaba apprehensive, so Akechi goes on his own casual way towards the closest Safe Room he remembers, hands in his pockets and humming a little. Even though no Shadows live on the surface, safe areas have fewer distortions.

"Fuck, I stubbed my toe again!" Wakaba curses behind him, before glaring at the piece of rubble that she didn't see in the dark and limping quickly behind Akechi. "If I knew this was what I was going to be doing, I wouldn't have dressed up," she mumbles darkly, and Akechi nods politely.

"Well, we've nearly arrived at the Safe Room, where cognitive distortions will be a little less than usual. We can talk there. I promise it'll be more comfortable, Ishikki-san."

Wakaba squints at him and his blasé tone, before swallowing what she was going to say and following behind him with a bit more force than necessary. Akechi shrugs, before continuing to pick his way through the abandoned city, feeling a little nostalgic that he was tramping through the surface of Mementos again in a world without the Phantom Thieves. This place, is once again, his and his alone.

Stepping around a pile of brick, Akechi cast his mind back.

What had he been doing in his last life at the point in time?

…Oh yes, he was mooning over his new apartment and gleefully outfitting it with everything he'd always wanted to have. He'd also been looking forward to Shido's next experiment with excitement to prove himself, planning to get into his good graces so his betrayal would _hurt_ , just like how he'd hurt his mother. Shido, he'd schemed, would regret ever abandoning him as a son.

Wow, he chuckles a little in derision. Knowing Shido as he does now, remembering those childish thoughts is actually a little painful. Morgana was right. He really had acted like a child throwing a tantrum.

Fifteen, and so stupid.

"What are you laughing about now, creepy boy?" Wakaba asks suspiciously behind him, and Akechi gives her a half shrug.

"I'm mourning my lost childhood innocence, Ishikki-san," Akechi replies, tone innocent.

"Pfft," Wakaba snorts unattractively. "Tell another joke. You're still a baby."

"And anyway," Akechi continues, brushing over the topic. "I'm hurt by all this continued suspicion, Ishikki-san. I have been nothing but truthful to you, you know?"

Wakaba rolls her eyes. "Well, we've met for something like an hour and you still haven't told me your name yet, mysterious X-kun."

Oh, right, Akechi blinks. He really hadn't.

"Forgive my rudeness, Ishikki-san," Akechi turns now, bowing politely. "My name is Goro Akechi. It's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances."

"Akechi," Wakaba immediately waives off the suffix, "tell me we're reaching that room of yours soon because I need to pick up my daughter in half an hour."

"In fact, we're right here."

Akechi pushes open the door to a veterinarian clinic, still unlocked because it's still opening hours, and there are flickers of colour here, where it had only been a mix of black and crimson on the outside. It's less oppressive too as a Safe Room, and Wakaba visibly loses a layer of reserve when she steps in.

"Now that you've walked through the surface of the Metaverse, do you believe my story a little more now?" Akechi broaches the topic first. "Even if you don't believe that Shido wishes to kill you, I'm at least telling you the truth on this, at least."

"I'll think about believing you. You'll have to give me time on your proposal though," Ishikki replies, quickly settling down on a nearby chair and taking off her heels.

"Why?" Akechi asks, leaning against a table himself. "My proposal is quite simple – I feed you information about Shido, you research a few things for me."

"You obviously have a personal motive in all of this, for one." Wakaba narrows her eyes at him while massaging her sore feet. "Though I know Shido can be a bastard sometimes, for certain reasons, I just don't think he'll kill me. Threaten, or blackmail maybe, but to jump straight to assassination…" Wakaba makes a face.

Akechi sighs.

He'd been hoping he wouldn't need to do this, but there's a sure-fire way of catching a scientist's attention.

"What if I change the deal, Ishikki-san?" Akechi leans forward, capturing Wakaba's attention again. "Your passion and expertise in cognitive-psience is still mainly theoretical, supported by a combination of clever psychological experimentation and neurochemical reactions. However," Akechi waves his hand around, "with me here you can do experiments live. A whole new way of exploring your field. You can start getting data from the source, travel a whole parallel dimension of the metaphysical in _body_. Isn't that exciting?"

"So I propose this: Once every week, I'll protect you while you collect data and do experimentation. All you have to do is agree to research something for me, and never tell Shido we're in contact."

Wakaba's eyes shine.

"Now we're talking," she laughs before pausing. "Wait, protect me from what? The streets were pretty empty."  


* * *

  
Luckily, there's an entrance to a subway station nearby, and they both head downwards. The moment they hit the station level, Akechi's outfit changes into the familiar trappings of Robin Hood.

"What's that? What did you just do to change your clothes?" Wakaba asks with enthusiasm, and Akechi deflects.

"I'll tell you if you agree to my proposal," he replies, in which Wakaba looks put-out.

It's just the first level, and Akechi shushes Wakaba when they see the first roaming Shadow. Her eyes widen, and Akechi is the one who pulls them both back onto the surface, to safety.

"They attack on sight," Akechi explains, and he's honestly prepared to delve into more depth when Wakaba suddenly slaps her hand in his and shakes it strongly.

"Deal, Akechi. Even if I don't believe in Shido's assassinating me or whatnot, I'd be an idiot to miss out on a research opportunity like this."

Wakaba's eyes are shining with a pure passion for knowledge. It takes Akechi back a little, to know first-hand how one of his victims had been such an… honest lady. What had Shido said, when he ordered him to kill her? 'Potential risk' because she had 'blackmail material' on her?

Facing Wakaba Ishikki now, Akechi knew she would never have compromised her own research this way.

The thought is uncomfortable, so Akechi pushes it away.

"Even if you don't believe me, Ishikki-san, I have to request that we communicate in a way that is undetected by Shido," Akechi insists, and Wakaba shrugs.

"That's no problem, I'll send you a foolproof way of communicating later. I don't want to scare you away just because we disagree on my choice of sponsors, Research Assistant-kun! Where do you live?" Wakaba asks, and Akechi rattles off the address of his dorm.

Wakaba nods and her smile grows large.

"It's a deal! Crap, if only I didn't have to pick up Futaba from cram school and have a casual dinner date with Sojiro I could've started immediately…"

Akechi was going to nod along with her, but he freezes instead because the rest of her sentence fades away alongside time. He's in that space between breaths again.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Fortune** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

"Hey, Akechi! Snap out of it, I'm nearly going to be late!"

Wakaba's snapping her fingers in front of his eyes as Akechi blinks back into awareness.

"My apologies. To leave, check your phone, Ishikki-san."

Akechi leads her through the exiting process, warns her not to enter the Metaverse by herself, before watching her practically sprint down the street towards, what he assumes, is Futaba Ishikki's cram school.

He has a deal in place though, and another Arcana for all that's worth, and Akechi lets himself feel a modicum of satisfaction at a successful negotiation.

At the end of all this, settling down back in his pink dorm room to do homework is practically relaxing, and he spends the rest of the night going through math worksheets with the ease of treating it as a meditative mental exercise.  


* * *

  
School is banally normal in comparison to the events of yesterday, and when he checks his emails during lunch, he still hasn't received a reply from his internship application.

So he lets himself live the life of a normal teenager, for once.

He answers all the right answers during class, submits his homework, and receives last week's homework back with full marks. The teacher's full of praises, and his classmates are suitably impressed. It's the perfect day that he's always wished for – all these rich and privileged boys and girls not knowing that one of the bastards they always looked down upon was beating them all. He'd loved that feeling before, of being envied and admired, suppressed snickers when they expressed how much they wanted to be like him.

However, the perfect school days he's planned for himself now feel uncomfortably stifling, for some reason.

Now it just feels boring.

Chatter, laughter, gossip, repeat.

Akechi watches them all from his seat by the window, head rested on his hand as he sees people clump together when the teacher gives them a little free time to study.

These people were worth nothing, really. Just empty sacks of meat to how important they were to his life. They knew nothing about what he really did in his daily life, loved him when he was on television, spurned him when he was unpopular. Utterly useless to him, as they were apathetic to anything that didn't benefit themselves somehow. Really, he'd prefer one Minato, to a whole school full of these sorts of strangers…

_The world is more beautiful than you think._

Akechi pauses in the middle of brushing off the class president. He changes his neutral face to a smile, giving her a quiet _'thank you'_ instead. The class president seems to brighten up and gives him a nod in reply, and her smile lingers even as she continues giving out homework papers. Akechi allows himself to do the same, his smile bland as he looks down at his own paper and thinks:

Nothing.

He feels nothing.

His own smile is pasted on – there is no warmth, no fledgling happiness at sharing a positive moment with another human being. All he feels is just a vain, empty disappointment. The world is, as ever, detached from his own problems. It's a necessity that made him learn how to read people so well, and when he glances around the sunny classroom filled with smiling faces, he sees how many just wanted their superficial relationships to validate themselves and nothing more. At the first whiff of hardship, they'd run.

Akechi couldn't help the scoff that reached his lips. Friendships. It had always been somewhat of a joke to him. A game.

 _Akira tried to reach you_ , a sliver of his heart said. _And Minato accepted you for everything that you are._

It’s easy to override that little shred of warmth. What are two people, really, in the thousands in his life? There’s a much larger part of him that lives in another moment, a moment where he is too small compared to all the other people milling around, black shadows around his mother’s casket.

There weren't many people there at her funeral, bare-bones as it was, but there was one aged woman who stayed from the beginning to the end, who smoked heavily even indoors. She puffed away at her cigarette, staring at the photo of his mother when she was still young, before her pregnancy with him had ruined her life.

"No tears, kid?" The smoking woman had asked. Akechi, in a small black suit sourced somewhere by social workers, stared blankly at her.

She chuckled.

"An iced heart even at your age. That's good, it'll protect you. The world ain't that great of a place."

The woman finished the cigarette, stepping on the stub with her heel and immediately pulled another one from her coat pocket. She lit it up without fanfare and dragged in deep – as if that one second without a cigarette in her mouth was a moment of torture.

"What are you thinking, brat?"

Akechi stared forward. His mother's casket. Her face had been bloated with blood since she hanged herself. He saw because he was the one who found her. But somehow, they had made her face look normal again, young and fresh and elegant. Strange, because she had never been elegant in life. She'd preferred the cute aesthetic – it had been her selling point to her customers, that she was small-boned and pretty and liked dressing up in ribbons and lace and ruffles. Liked feeling like the girl she could never be again.

Akechi finally opened his mouth to reply to the woman's question.

"It's unfair."

The woman snorted, smoke coming out of her nostrils.

"Life's unfair, kid."

Akechi frowned, as ferociously as an eight-year-old could.

"It's _unfair_."

"Not completely ice yet, are you? Well, keep that fire burning." A tired tone to her voice. Exhaustion. Akechi had seen this woman with his mother before, standing in contrast to his mother's fluffy aesthetic in dark leathers, both equally pretty on the street corner. "Keep it burning, as long as you can, or you'll grow numb. And numbness," the woman had said with a tinge of despair, eyes fixed on his mother's face, "is where it all ends. That's when you disappear."

He remembers this despite not fully understanding what she said when he was young, because that woman committed suicide that night, and she lived three doors down from Akechi and his mother's flat. Akechi was supposed to be picking up his things that morning with his social worker but were instead blocked by policemen for a few hours.

He doesn't want to disappear, so Akechi looks around the classroom and listens.

"My father wants to go to Hawaii for summer vacation," one of the girls next to him is saying. "I said I didn't want to, we've gone there every year since I turned twelve, but he _insisted_. Said it's a family tradition so I can't say no."

"Oh, that's such a shame, Rina! I wanted to invite you to visit our villa in Italy. It's so beautiful, look, I'll show you some pictures…"

"It's embarrassing, that's what," a boy is proclaiming in front of him. "When we bumped into Keito-sensei at the supermarket, my ma insisted on dragging me over to watch as she bowed and thanked her for taking care of me! Ugh, I wanted to die."

Another boy laughs loudly from his right. "Yeah, but my brother got a new car for his 16th birthday, but when it's my birthday dad just gives me permission to host a party wherever I want. I'm tempted to say somewhere like the Grand Ballroom at the Civic Tower just to see him panic, haha."

Shogaku's a school for the elite, a private school if you will, filled with the privileged who don't see it. It's not their fault they can be so happy they create their own unhappinesses. It's not his fault that he's in a world where unhappy people are so happy when they take from others. He knows. _He knows._ He has always known, sitting in the corner of his institution when he could still fit underneath the low table in the corner, watching fifteen kids try their hardest to vie for the attention of a caretaker who would go home in relief after their shift.

Even so, Akechi listens. He lets it build. Lets it burn.

And he exists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are too kind to me. Thanks for your comments and kudos, I'm really glad you guys like how Shido is shown, his evil machinations are just surface level right now and sometimes there's only so much you can do when you're a kid facing adults D: It doesn't help that Akechi has never been in a healthy place his whole life but we'll slowly explore that I hope
> 
> Akechi doesn't go to Kosei (like Yusuke) but I have mentioned Kosei before to foreshadow Akechi and Yusuke's interactions. Even though it's gonna get awhile to get there, Yusuke's honestly my favourite character to write so I'm excited. ^^
> 
> Thanks again for reading. See you next week :D


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days are spent jointly on either his homework or sifting through the photos he took from Shido on his newly bought laptop. He makes lists of names - he is surprised that Kunikazu Okumura is still yet to be approached, but has been observed for the past few months. There are many names he doesn't recognise as he slowly tries to decipher Shido's circle through the photos that are often disconnected or jumbled.

It's during this time that his mailbox has a letter inside that bears no sender and no return address. Opening it in his room, it's a single sheet of paper with a link on it, a username, with a messy scrawl of an explanation underneath saying _'this is a safe link for a messaging app that someone I trust built – put it in your phone or whatever'._

It's obviously Wakaba, and since Medjed had already started making minor news here and there around the globe, he supposes Futaba Ishikki built the app on her mother's request.

After he downloads it and transfers it to his personal phone, he immediately sends a message to the only other person he can contact.

[GA: Please ensure that whoever built this app cannot track my whereabouts. Or anyone, on that matter. Thank you.]

After a short pause, there's a reply.

[MadPscientist: don't worry she assures that even she can't hack the security on this thing, it was a group project turned spaghetti. and where's your teen spirit, your username is so boring]

[GA: Yes, it does seem to lack a bit of character compared to yours, doesn't it? I'll take it as a work in progress, ^^. On the other hand, please tell me when you wish to start experimentation as your schedule dictates, Pscientist-san.]

[MadPscientist: im not free for the next two weeks cos of a conference it sucks. im free 28 june tho. Can you make it, at night 6-ish? where the vet was]

[GA: Okay, I will make sure I'm free. I will meet you then.]

The app looks inconspicuous when he exits it and requires a thumbprint and a PIN to access when he tries to tap in. It's perfect for his needs, and again he re-evaluates Futaba Ishikki's obvious digital genius. Even at age thirteen, she and her small group of hacker friends have already started pranking governments around the globe.

The small piece of paper is easily folded and eaten, and after washing it down with half a glass of water, Akechi is ready for school again.

The rest of the week passes uneventfully – it's just school and the socialising required for it, checking his email for a reply from the internship, finishing his notes on Shido and contemplating on Metaverse theories.

It's an issue that he's resolved to gain a little headway in before delving back into Mementos.

In their long, peaceful chat in another universe, Minato had let a lot of things slip as he was telling his story. Even though he couldn't explain what the Other Side was very clearly, he did mention that anything from the Metaverse that can affect the real world on the scale of Mementos has to have at least the momentum of a _God_.

He highly doubts Shido and his crew are Gods in disguise. If Shido is a God (Akechi suppresses a derisive snort at the thought), everyone would already know it. He wouldn't be scrabbling for power like he is, he'd be loudly blasting how everyone should start him worshipping already. If he framed the drama that swallowed past life through another lens, Shido and his circle of corrupt authorities were merely humans who found a way to exploit the Metaverse. It means that the creator of Mementos is an entirely unknown factor.

Minato's comments spark some old unanswered questions that had still been in mystery when he died.

Morgana's origin, for example, and where Mementos had ultimately come from. Who had sent the app to them in the first place? Why? If the app wasn't an _automated_ system, then didn't that mean that whoever made Mementos was _always watching them?_ Judging who to pull in, who to invite. Yusuke Kitagawa, Ann Takamaki, Futaba Sakura - all people pulled in by accident, who awakened such potential in their Personas, perfectly filling each other's weaknesses.

 _'Igor would never invite someone to the Other Side,'_ Minato had said, gaze a little confused. _'Something's strange,'_ he insisted, _'why did you and that other Wildcard have such hard trials?'_

But when Akechi pressed as mildly as he could, because Minato tended to flicker if he pushed too hard, Minato just shook his head and said he didn't know the answer. Akechi would usually be annoyed at things like that, but somehow when you were floating in the middle of the universe as a ghost with nothing to do, you realise how small and insignificant your annoyances are.

But here he is, magically not a ghost and in the business of saving the world, so now Akechi turns it around in his head as the teacher drones on about chemical formulas to a classroom half asleep from boredom.

Akira and his merry band of Phantom Thieves were more than enough to beat Shido, but Minato had said the world had fallen anyway. Akira had 'accepted a deal', but he knows Akira enough that he'd cared. He had cared more than enough, for a traitor like Akechi. Akira wouldn't have listened to any words dropped from Shido's mouth.

Maybe Akira was great enough to beat Shido, but fell to the unknown mastermind?

Akechi narrows his eyes as he taps his pen on his desk.

The thought of Akira and his sharp smile, his indomitable will, his utterly maddening sense of optimistic justice somehow _acceding_ to some paltry God is greeted with a bright burst of anger.

Had he been an unknowing puppet to more than just Shido? Had they all been part of a greater game?

"Akechi-kun," the teacher interrupts from the front of the room, "come up the board and balance this chemical equation please."

He abruptly loosens his death grip on his pen, taking a deep breath before sliding out of his chair. He takes the chalk out of his teacher's hand and quickly does the math in his head, writing the numbers under the chemicals and stepping back with a benign smile when the teacher beams.

"As expected of Akechi-kun, great work!"

"Thank you," he bows, before going back to his seat, shelving his previous thought for later. There's nothing he could do about the mysteries of Mementos now, so he lists it as a worry for an Akechi of tomorrow.

He has plans for today, anyway.  


* * *

  
The music store after school is bustling with the bright chatter of students while some J-pop band plays loudly over the store speakers. In the hubbub, trying to find the bands of the musicians that Minato had mentioned in passing is harder than he thought. Akechi has never been interested in music beyond having enough conversational material to work with, so any genre beyond classical, jazz or modern pop is basically a mystery to him.

Past the large racks of the latest hits, he passes the dark leather aesthetics of more metal bands before finding himself in a calm corner, where only one or two hipsters were browsing the CDs.

It's the second-hand section. Akechi hasn't bought anything second-hand the moment he became sponsored by Shido.

It's logical though, to think that Minato's 2000s music would be found here, so he browses. He soon finds two of the bands Minato had murmured about – some alternative indie rock with an appropriately artsy depiction of a moose in an urban landscape on its cover, while the other is bright blue and drawn with an anime girl staring intensely out with her hands over her headphones.

Akechi stares at these, a little conflicted. It feels… strange. He would never have bought these by himself. These artists were obviously too unknown to be any sort of use in a networking scenario.

One of the hipsters that had been browsing notices the CDs in his hands and gives him a wide smile.

"Oh hey, you don't look like it, but you have great taste!"

Akechi tries not to startle as he clenches the CDs protectively. "Thanks," he settles with as he slides the two albums under his arm, fighting the urge to step back while the other guy continues to chatter at him.

"You like the same stuff as I do! I dunno why, but older music just sounds so much better than the stuff they're pumping out recently doesn't it?" He continues, before taking a CD out of his own stack of music and giving it to him. "If you like them, I bet you'll like this! Go on, try it!"

Akechi tilts his head slightly in thought.

The other guy's warm enthusiasm is… not overwhelming, exactly, because he has been a celebrity before. But it's surprising. Akechi can see no motive except a genuine desire to share.

It's with a slower movement than usual that Akechi takes the CD out of the other boy's hand, even as the hipster looks at his watch and cursed.

"Drat, I'll be late! I hope you like the CD, fellow music lover! Let's hope we bump into each other again or something, I buy music here all the time! Bye!"

Akechi looks down silently at the extra CD in his hands that isn't part of Minato's music preferences, and it's tempting to just place it back on the shelf and wash his hands of this whole, strange affair.

In the end he keeps it, and after a quick browse he exits the store with the cheapest CD player he can find.

When he sits back inside his dorm, the curtains closed against the sunset trying to stream in, he plays all the CDs in turn.

The one with the moose on the cover turns out to be quite a relaxing mix, the singer preferring soft tones and bare accompaniment most of the time, drums a gentle beat at the back and clever acoustic rhythms. The anime girl album is much more electronic, with jazz chords and suave beats interjected with lines of bass and alternative pacing.

They're both quirky in their own way, and he sees how Minato suits them, what it said about his character that he'd drown the world away with such bright pieces of music in his ears.

The third CD that the random hipster gave him is a modern piano mix, the cover a lone white figure of a boy against a dark forest.

It starts off with loud, discordant chords that are structured (but not exactly pleasant), and Akechi winces when it continues for longer than he expects. He turns to the album information inside the case for answers, wondering exactly what he wasted money on. There're a few paragraphs of dedications before there's a note written by the composer describing his inspirations.

_'I composed this mix because I am now growing up as a person._

_It feels strange to think that although I feel the same, now that I am grown up I am now expected to untether myself from everyone around me that once supported me._

_I know I can stand by myself, but it's scary sometimes. I feel lonely too, sometimes. But in the end, I want to believe I'll be ok._

_I composed this with these sincere feelings, I hope you enjoy. ~Misono'_

Akechi blinks in surprise. With a little glance of consternation at how the piano continues to bang away, he lets it continue, placing the album on top of the other two in a neat stack and preparing his stack of homework for today. The music plays in the background as he goes through his Japanese History sheets.

He ends up finishing his essay about the relationship of Art and Politics during the Sengoku Era by the time the CD ends on a gentle major scale that glistens up in an ascending ripple, ending the whole piece with a soft ringing note at the top.

It's… pleasant.

Akechi slides the CD out with a thoughtful hum, placing it carefully back into its case.  


* * *

  
The second experimentation with Shido is as he expected. They don't meet up in his apartment anymore – instead, they're in a fancy underground bar, emptied for their convenience. Shido gives him a list of tasks to experiment within the Metaverse again, and Akechi quietly keeps his deceptions stable as he pretends not to know how to find the Shadows of specific people.

He'll take it slow this time, not be such an overachiever. Last time he had delved into Mementos night after night, figuring out how the Metaverse worked and reporting it all to Shido in hopes to impress him and show him how valuable he was.

His past self was an idiot.

"You will try delving into that public unconsciousness you mentioned before next week," Shido commands from his seat. His face is flushed from all the alcohol he'd been indulging in as Akechi explored how moving objects in the Metaverse would affect the Real World (basically nothing except a little cognitive dissonance). "I'll send you a list of tasks, and you can submit a written report to me. We don't have to meet up."

"Alright, Shido-san," Akechi pretending to be slightly disappointed as he's dismissed for a band of giggling girls that push past him, obviously on call the moment Akechi finished his experiments.

"Masa-san~~ We've missed you!" They chorus as he takes the stairs two at a time and the door hasn't swung close yet.

"How are all of my little angels?" He hears Shido reply, and Akechi has to suppress the shiver of disgust that crawls up his spine.

He can't believe he centred his life around someone like that. Why had he valued Shido's opinion so much?

( _"Your father is just away,"_ his mother's blurry smile in the morning after a hard night. A bruise on her jaw. She carefully places a microwaved bowl of rice in front of him with a dash of soy sauce, and Akechi doesn't bother telling her that he knows that she's unmarried. _"Of course he loves you."_ )

The busy chatter of Tokyo streets are, as always, a relief, and Akechi puts thoughts of Shido away with determination, thinking instead of what dinner he should have.

He loads up on two puddings on his trip to the convenience store.

He needs a little bit of a treat today, anyway.  


* * *

  
It's about halfway through June when he gets a reply for his internship. When he clicks on the email, it's a congratulatory message (not that he expected anything less, barring Shido intervening) and an invitation for an interview a week later, on June the 20th.

There's not much to prepare, really, so Akechi makes sure his smile is in place for the day, his clothes are crease-free, and walks into the Tokyo Police Headquarters.

There're more than a few people this Friday. There are various people in front of him before they reach Maika-san, the receptionist, who looks like she's been harried enough for today. The man currently talking to her seems to be especially spittle heavy as he argues that he didn't violate his restraining order, he just accidentally dripped water on his anklet which is… To be fair, not Maika-san's jurisdiction, which she has told him multiple times already.

Akechi adjusts his smile to something a bit more sympathetic when it's his turn.

"Hello, Maika-san," he greets politely, giving her a small bow. "I'm Goro Akechi, here for an interview for an internship?"

When the harried woman sees Akechi, a spark of recognition lights up her eyes and crease them into a tired smile. The streaks of grey in her hair and the eyebags covered with thick concealer hides a woman whose stress has aged her beyond, what Akechi remembers correctly, someone who just hit 30 years of age.

But there's still that look to her that Akechi envies when he sees it in people, of a stubborn sort of kindness and optimism that hasn't faded even though she's in a dead-end job facing horrible jerks all day. It's that well of strength that Maika-san obviously pulls from when she shakes her head and gives him a sincere look of congratulations.

"You were the kid who came for that internship info, right? Congratulations!"

Akechi tinges his smile with a little more feeling. "Thank you, Maika-san."

A few taps later, Maika directs him down the hallway into a smaller sitting area where it doesn't take long for someone to call his name. Entering the door, Akechi can't help but feel quite satisfied when he can name all three people at the panel interview.

He bows deeply at the door.

"Good day, everyone. My name is Goro Akechi. It's an honour to be here today."

He knows exactly what to say.

Thirty minutes later, he keeps his body language humble as he backs out of the room. Akechi has to actively suppress the triumphant smirk that keeps trying to take over his face, even as he nods at the next nervous interviewee with a kind, encouraging air. His records are flawless, and he presented all the ideal traits of their selection criteria.

Heh. The others don't stand a chance.  


* * *

  
Maika is busy when he leaves, so he gives her a small wave when he catches her eye and goes to a nearby pancake parlour. [AMERICAN STYLE!] The neon sign blazes cheerfully as he steps into a wave of air-conditioning that smelt like fried sweets, butter and cream. The sight of thick stacks of pancakes on the plates of other patrons makes him let out a small sigh of indulgence as he starts skimming the menu.

"I'll take the strawberry-cream stack with extra sprinkles please~" 

It's a familiar bubbly voice, to his surprise, from the girl in front of him, and Akechi blinks as he finally registers that the voluminous blonde hair in front of him isn't a result of some gyaru-fashion, but is actually _natural_.

Ann Takamaki tucks her small purse back into her pocket before cursing when her phone falls out as a result, bouncing to land near Akechi's feet.

"Oh, sorry!" Takamaki says, even as Akechi automatically bends down and picks it up, offering it to her maybe a little too woodenly to be natural. "Thanks for that!" Her blue eyes crinkle in a smile of appreciation.

"No problem," Akechi replies, pasting on the best Detective Prince smile he can. Dipping his head a little as he steps past her to the counter, he lets himself stare sightlessly at the menu board. Takamaki is still standing there, waiting for her food to finish cooking as she now fiddles with her phone charm. Her pretty face is slightly bored, middle-school uniform fashionably arranged, and even just standing there she makes a picture attractive enough that Akechi can count at least five guys who have stared at her more than it was socially acceptable.

_"Isn't there some way to get this open, Mona?!"_

Her voice had been panicked, near tears even. Akechi swallows, and his saliva tastes like blood in his mouth. His hands involuntarily touch where the bullet had pierced his chest and— 

"Umm... Are you alright?" Takamaki asks, hand reaching out to shake his arm, and Akechi has to fight himself not to flinch back. In her face echo the rest of the Phantom Thieves looking at him in those last moments of undeserved sympathy.

In her voice, he hears Akira's quiet, quiet agreement to their last promise as he stared down the gun that ended his life.

Her face is kind, tinged with the simple worry for a stranger. In that moment, the sun filtering through the logo on the window shades her face in wavy red, and he tries to assuage her, but what is there to say?

_"Isn't there some way to get this open, Mona?!"_

…No. No, he can't do this. 

He smiles and pretends that he has to take a phone call, shoots an apologetic smile at the guy behind the counter who has been waiting more patiently than he deserved and hightails it out of there. He storms into the streets and down subway steps, bypassing people as he feels the world squeeze him a little more tightly than usual. His plans for a quiet afternoon is utterly transformed from a few seconds of seeing a Phantom Thieves' face. 

What is he doing? Akechi's heart thunders underneath his fingers still pressed to the bullethole and the dead heart it bore through. Ann Takamaki should be the very _last_ person he runs away from. She had one of the simplest characters in the whole Phantom Troupe, bubbly, forgiving, friendly, one of the characters to inject a cheerful air to the Thieves. This encounter should be nothing. It _does_ mean nothing. Akechi has done nothing to try connect to her yet.

He's faced down _Shido_. All Takamaki had ever done to him was invite him on a few dessert trips he's always studiously denied. She had been friendly, whenever they had met. He should go back there now. March back, and create a better first impression on one of Akira's closest friends than the pathetic display he just showed. Try to be kind this time, to someone who has never been less to him.

Yet, his feet still pace faster and faster.

Away. He wants to go _away_.

And as Akechi has always made the best decisions in his life when he's stressed, anxious, and slightly self-loathing at his own weaknesses, he thinks _fuck it_ , fuck all of this shit, why the fuck is he anxious about some God that never appeared in his past life anyway, fuck, and shimmers into Mementos with no preparation, weapons or items and practically sprints into the first Shadow he sees. 

He beats it down with his fists, imagining every single punch landing on Shido's face. Every single counterattack the Shadow tries to do is useless, he's fought these mooks a thousand times before. 

When he finally meets a few strong to physical attacks and the effort of taking a Shadow down is overcoming the utter catharsis of going absolutely nuts, he reaches up to his mask with Loki on his lips. 

"Loki!" He yells, hand on the corner of his mask that… 

His head is wrenched to the side, and the mask doesn't come off. Instead, his neck now complains of a slightly strained muscle as he now finally calms enough to realise that he's not in the belted skin-tight bodysuit that Minato always made fun of.

Akechi stops breathing. No, it can't be. Slowly, he reaches up and feels _hair_. 

His mask is not basically a helmet, and the cape that he's used to having, flapping ragged, is uncomfortably heavy on his back. He lets the Shadow he was pummelling run away as he twists now, panic rising when he realises that his ragged cloak is now a full mantle made of black feathers, two wings sewn haphazardly together to make it impossible to fly. 

_His hands_ , Akechi realises in horror, are in _gauntlets_ , he has light greaves on, and he seems to have a full set of light armour that's gleaming solid black. His mask is a curved blade of a thing that doesn't protrude forward as much as it curls back behind his ears and continues to stick out with bladed feathers. His fingers fumble against it, so unfamiliar when he's used to the smooth curve of Loki's helmet. 

" _Loki!"_ Akechi screams this time, reaching for that empty loathing, that feeling of being belted down and entrapped like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard, of being ever trapped in society's unfairness and the swirl of bloodthirsty _vengeance_ against anything that had ever mocked him, looked down at him, abandoned him. 

He stiffens his neck, takes the mask by its bladed edges, and _wrenches_.

The mask stays on. Akechi wildly searches his mind now, and Robin Hood is still there, just like last time when he led Wakaba around. It's a burst of childhood memories, of hopes and dreams and benign inquisitorial energy, latched onto a smaller, idealised vision of himself when he was young. Robin has always been easy to find – a small patch of brightness in an otherwise morbidly dark inner psyche. 

The darkest corners that Loki had hovered, feeding off the shadow of Shido in his mind is gone. Instead of Shido, there’s a vague form of a boy chained to a cross, head dipped, and a black feathered mass of a thing that breathes, standing valiant in front of it.

The previous overwhelming shadow of Shido is diminished, smaller, uglier, less awe-inspiring. He's still large and hulking, still mysterious and dangerous, but Shido's reach doesn't reach into all the corners of his mind, doesn't have eyes in every shadow. It doesn't strangle him with every breath, it doesn't mock him with his incompetence. Instead, it sits in the corner and Akechi stares because something like that could never support the visceral burning desperation of Loki. 

Oh.

_Oh._

Akechi turns the upcoming sob into a loud, wet laugh, letting it echo down the cavernous tunnels of Mementos. He laughs, laughs and laughs and laughs, laughs until tears are running down his cheeks.

Because it's true, he realises now. Shido isn't the large, threatening entity that he's chained to. He knows Shido will never acknowledge him, no matter how desperately he tries. He's just disposed trash, in the end, dead with a bullet in his chest. So he hasn't been trying, didn't nervously tuck Shido's phone in his inner pockets always waiting for a call, always wondering how to impress, how to become more perfect, how to show Shido that it was a shame he didn't love him.

Shido can't chain him down with exposing any of his crimes and assassinations, Akechi lives free from his surveillance, and he might be able to start saving legitimate money if the internship pans out, further separating him from his influence.

Shido hasn't become the thing he revolved his life around, a legend bigger than life. He's learnt his lesson on being dependant on a man like him. This time he stared at Shido in the eye, listened to him calling out to his prostitutes, seen what his mother had been to him, once in a lifetime past. Seen him for the disgusting, unworthy man that he is, unworthy of the emotions that he still wrenches out of him, time and time again. 

What drove him these last few weeks has not been Shido. 

"I'll try save the world," Akechi mouths to himself now, tasting the intentions of these words, and he doesn't really kid himself that he's actually become some sort of hero, some sort of gallant knight, even though he guesses that might be what he looks like now. The burn against the world is still there, Akechi is still petty as shit, and he will only fight for what he believes in, what he has chosen. 

It's just that his choice isn't Shido anymore. 

**You've taken long enough. Are you going to call my name or wallow in the past and blind yourself to the potentials of the future you can wreak? The future is in your hands... in selflessness or selfishness. Saviour of the world or saviour of yourself... What will you be?**

Akechi clenches his teeth against the pain that the voice wrought in his head, even as something in his heart protests angrily. 

He's selfish, yes, but he's selfish enough to want _everything_. Of course he's going to claim a better future for himself.

_But why can't he save the world in the process?_

There's a wild laugh in his head. 

**Hahahaha! Your grand ambition, your lust for strength, glory and honour... I acknowledge it all! Power, in its greatest form, is freedom! Form a vow with me, time-traveller, you who is never satiated! Raise your sword, curse the world, and fight!**

The monstrous black form in his mind shivered, black feathers ready to take flight, and Akechi's head feels like it will burst as something unclicks and the world is focused on the low magnetic voice ringing in his head. He has no other option. 

**I am thou, thou art I… I am the Goddess of War, Death and Prophecy. Join me on the never-ending battlefield of fate! Call my name!**

"Morrigan!" Akechi finally yells, and the mask rips off his face in the same painful way as he remembers, and the resultant energy pours out of him into a beautiful female warrior three times his size, armoured in black, heavy armour with an intricate sword in hand, crow wings growing out of her back in a large sweep reminiscent of a Renaissance painting. The silver sword in her hand glows, and the only colour he can see on his Persona is a flowing mane of golden hair that drapes in waves from her helmeted head down to her waist. She's smiling a little sharp to be sane, a little too dangerous to feel human. 

She raises her silver sword with unholy glee when she spots the Shadow that ran away cowering at a dead end. The knowledge of what she's doing bubbles in his mind. 

_"Hell's eye!"_

Morrigan slashes down, and a beam of silver light passes down the hallway straight into the Shadow, and the Shadow simply… disintegrates. 

Morrigan also fades behind him, smug, wild energy veiling her as she retreats back into his mind. 

Akechi is left standing there, eyes wet with a few residual tears, shocked and hollow and scraped through as he stares at his gauntleted hands. 

Clench. Unclench. Clench. 

The tunnels are unusually silent. Akechi's breathing rasps against his lungs, loud in his ears. The adrenaline courses in rabbit fast thumps of his heart as Akechi feels like he just weathered a thunderstorm. 

What just happened? 

In the depths of his mind, the figure of Morrigan laughs, flaring her large black wings until they nearly reach the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie we hit 200+ kudos guys. I'm really pleasantly surprised! Thanks for all the support *bows  
> All your comments make me happy too ^^. Knowing someone's thoughts on your work is sometimes such a privilege. Thank you again.
> 
> I hope this chapter was ok. See you guys next week (Happy Lunar New Year! Let's hope 2020 gets better from here on out).


	7. Chapter 7

[MadPscientist: hey remember were meeting today. 6 at the vet, dont forget.]

[GA: That’s fine, see you then ^^.]

Akechi’s delved into Mementos a few more times since the time he awakened Morrigan, venturing in the few layers that he could reach testing out his powers. Like last time, the mysterious God that he suspects is watching Mementos doesn’t appear as he ventures in the tunnels, and Akechi doesn’t know if he’s frustrated or relieved. 

If Morrigan knew he was a time-traveller, then a God would most likely know it as well. If the presence of a time-traveller wasn’t enough to garner the interest of this God, what else would?

Perhaps a Wildcard that’s not himself.

It was Akira who accepted the deal… so perhaps it is Akira who is being targeted. The complicated flare of hatred and concern that arises (because, as always, it's Akira, always Akira in the centre of the universe) does nothing against that idea, so Akechi puts all the frustration into training as he focuses on exploring his current strengths.

Robin Hood is as strong as he was at the point of his death, his Bless and Physical skills making quick work of any Shadow Akechi passes. But he had never been Akechi’s Persona of choice. Generally speaking, he's just inefficient. Robin Hood’s Bless skills had always tired him too quickly simply because of incompatibility, and Akechi turns his focus to Morrigan.

Morrigan is weak, just like any other newly awakened Persona, but he’s surprised that she’s also strong to Curse and weak to Bless like Loki. Roaming Mementos as he had, he’s gradually attuned to her and her style, and more and more of her attacks are becoming familiar to him.

However, there’s a significant choice that has already been taken away from him, with Loki gone.

He cannot induce mental breakdowns anymore.

That was Loki’s exclusive skill, something he’d named Berserk. When used on ordinary Shadows, unprepared, they would go mad. If he used it once, it was only a temporary effect, making their real self go into a mild seizure. However, if he used it repeatedly, the Shadow would go completely insane. Usually, it was irreversible.

Once Shido had found out he had this power, he had liked it quite a bit. He liked to order milder ones, sometimes, where a drop in attention could mean death. It was also convenient when Shido was in a bad mood and wished to watch torture. Apparently, the effects of Berserk even in the real world was… significant.

Not that Akechi had wanted to tell Shido that Berserk existed this time. There had been times, people, that even Akechi's broken morality had felt he was going too far, where people went insane one second and horrified and devastated the next, even as Shido looked on in dark satisfaction.

No, Berserk not existing wasn't something that truly saddened Akechi. It was the fact that the choice was taken away from him that makes him grit his teeth, hit harder than usual.

His gauntleted hand grips the blades of his mask and rips it off as he directs Morrigan to kill another Shadow. She comes to him in a burst of unrestrained glee, swiping the Shadow with a Curse attack before settling back snugly in the back of his mind, ever-ready to join the battle.

When he used Loki, he used to whisper echoes of his own darker thoughts during the day, encouraging him on with sly quips and pointing out how his anger was _justified, Akechi, to them you’re just a throwaway. Why,_ Loki would query, a silky-smooth murmur, _is it bad to throw them away? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and if they destroy you… why not destroy them back?_ In the end, Loki had been a comforting friend in the darkness of humanity’s psyche, a constant snicker at the pathetic grousing of the various Shadows they passed.

Morrigan however… 

Morrigan tended to laugh, laugh _a lot_ , with a sort of manic tilt accompanied by comments that were sometimes battle-crazed, and sometimes remarkably sane. 

**Your worries are stupid when you still know nothing,** she advised once, a little wisely, while the next second she was wildly slashing a Shadow into pieces laughing wildly about **the adrenaline in my veins!**

He wonders really hard about what this says about his psyche.

 **You think too much,** Morrigan snorts, all calm valiance when there’s no enemy nearby. **Your future is intricately connected to many wrongs which you can right, but you are the orchestrator of your own fate and no more. Others will live their lives, will fight their fights. That is the nature of a battlefield – a million battles, a million lives, and yours only one in many.**

Akechi rolls his eyes, and Morrigan only huffs, subsiding to Robin Hood as Akechi summons him with little struggle. 

Robin Hood’s regalia cloaked on, Akechi heads up out of the nearest subway back up onto the streets. He’s wandered a little far from the vet that he agreed to meet Wakaba with, so he shimmers out of Mementos to catch a real train to Shibuya, before entering it again. 

Wakaba has already entered the Metaverse by the time he gets there, sitting by herself inside the veterinarian clinic with a huge backpack unpacked in front of her.

“Don’t tell me you trekked across half of Tokyo with this on you,” Akechi says with exasperation the moment he enters the room, and Wakaba startles..

“Fuck, don’t do that!” Wakaba swears, holding her hands to her heart. “That gave me a heart attack!” Akechi only response is to smile, and Wakaba rolls her eyes. “Right, brat that doesn’t respect their elders, nearly forgot. Wait a sec, I’ll pack all this up.”

As she does so, Akechi barely manages not to frown. “I’m not joking, Ishikki-san. I don’t want anyone to know you’re doing experiments in the Metaverse,” Akechi repeats. He knows all too well what happens when people don't take the Metaverse seriously, when they're still complacent and unsuspicious. The fact that he caught Takamaki and Kitagawa with mere public CCTV says volumes about how seriously the Phantom Thieves took the matter until he started explicitly targeting them.

Wakaba gets up, hauling the backpack onto her back with a grunt. “I do weird stuff with my equipment all the time, no-one will notice. Now come on, let’s go! You can tell me what you know about this place while we walk!”

Wakaba confidently heads out of the vet’s while pulling out a headlight from her backpack, of all things, strapping it to her head in a beam of light that cuts through the gloom of the Metaverse a little. 

Akechi manages small-talk with Wakaba as she chatters incessantly with questions, waving various instruments around. The only thing he recognises is a thermometer, though when he reads her notes from behind, he does understand most of her scribbles. Right now, apparently, she’s noting how the humidity of the Metaverse corresponds with the Real World.

Wakaba makes a face. “Humidity? I haven’t seen a single cloud. Is there even a water cycle here?" Akechi hums in brief thought before shaking his head.

“It’s never rained, but Shadows and Mementos itself does react to certain weather events.”

Wakaba stops squinting dubiously at the humidity figure and gives him an expectant look to continue, and Akechi recites the ones he remembers out loud. Pollen, rain, heat… Wakaba takes all of that with mad scribbles and puzzled tilts of her head.

“Fascinating, utterly fascinating. Seems like certain things leak through world boundaries… But why the weather of all things?”

Akechi follows behind her with more bemusement than he expects, as Wakaba in her research element is like watching a little kid that just got chucked a bowl of candy. She is so obviously excited, and although it's not unwelcome, it's certainly something he's not used to seeing in an adult. At least the adults in his life.

“Ishikki-san,” Akechi interjects after a solid twenty minutes of Wakaba examining the various rocks on the wayside, trying to collect evil-looking sludge and taking photos of their surroundings. “What do you research, specifically?”

“I’m actually not at liberty to say normally,” Wakaba replies absentmindedly as she madly scribbles in her notebooks, dropping two pens when she turns the page. Akechi has stopped helping her pick them up (it happens too often), and he’s just watching from where he’s leaning on the wall, legs casually crossed as he reviews some English notes for school. “My stakeholders are all like, really bigwigs and they want to put it on ham. It’s surprising though, isn’t it?” Wakaba taps on her notebook in thought for a few seconds. 

Akechi tilts his head, switching his phone off to give her his full attention. “What’s surprising, Ishikki-san?”

“Well, if you think about it, cognitive pscience isn’t a field many people know of,” Wakaba replies without looking up. “I bet if you go around on the street and ask anybody about parallel dimensions and stuff, you’ll probably get sci-fi quotes or famous mathematicians, you know? Although some cognitive pscientists claim that cognitive events have been affecting humanity since at least 4000 years ago, it doesn't change that it's still mostly theoretical to the masses.” She laughs. "It's definitely not a random Bachelors you can choose when you go to university!"

“How did you get in the field then?” Akechi asks with more than a little curiosity now, and Wakaba hums.

“Well, I entered psychology at first,” she tells him, picking up her pens and tucking them under her arm as she hauls herself up onto her feet and waves him forward with her camera in hand. “My final thesis was on the effects of crowd psychology. Mass panic incidents, spectator effects, stuff like that. How does a crowd of different individuals with their varied skillsets and personalities do the same thing at times like those? That was fascinating to me, how us humans project ourselves as so different, and that individuality is so important to us for good mental health… but we are also so _similar_.”

Wakaba’s eyes shine as she starts waving her arms and the few pens that she tucked under her arm fall again. Akechi is trying really, really hard not to roll his eyes as he picks them up, but Wakaba doesn’t even notice. 

“As I researched such things, I got very into the concept of belief. What is it? Why does it work? Because when people believe, Akechi, put their body and soul into something that they agree with 100%, that’s when people can do _great_ things. Belief is such a force it can override morality, self-esteem, spark motivation and ambition, make people complacent… It's so mythical! Basically, I did a theoretical paper on it that’s way too long to summarise in a convo like this, but I postulated a few theories on this force of belief. One of them was basically one that hypothesised belief as not only an intrinsic force but also an _extrinsic_ one too. It's uh… bleh.”

Wakaba falters, her hands struggling to frame what she’s trying to say as her face twists in confusion.

“Like, the beliefs inside you can affect the world around you too, and that sort of thing spreads through your actions, your atmosphere, your relationships, your community, your society. Your belief then becomes an extrinsic entity – it becomes a concept that isn’t individualised. It becomes something that not only you can wield, but other people can take and use as they like too.”

Akechi blinks because this sounds remarkably like what Minato was saying back on the Other Side.

“After I presented my paper, I was approached by some a really big name to continue my research on the avenue I just mentioned. They gave me an invitation to join their labs on how cognition can actively affect reality. It was pretty high-end hidden stuff, not gonna lie, I was totally out of my depth. But I _loved_ it, and after I finished my term there I made my own lab and continued my own interests in the field. Stuff happened, years went by, and now I can confidently say I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Wakaba glances over at Akechi when he gives a thoughtless hum in reply, hands in the pockets of his school uniform, eyes on the blank sky of the Metaverse as gears slowly churn in his mind.

“May I ask, Ishikki-san,” Akechi says without looking down. “Was that major lab an affiliate of Kirijo Group?”

Wakaba stills, before whipping around to stare at Akechi, who meets her gaze with a lingering smile on his lips. He crinkles his eyes in a way many have called 'endearing'.

“I’ll take it as a yes?” Akechi says breezily, and Wakaba has to obviously take a deep breath in and out before she replies.

“How the heck did you get Kirijo Group out of everything I just told you?!”

“Don’t worry, Ishikki-san,” Akechi replies, slowly walking past Wakaba, prompting her to follow. “Your secrets are safe with me as long as mine are safe with you. We have a deal, don’t we?”

“Speaking of the deal,” Wakaba lets it slide after an extremely pregnant pause, having lost a lot of her relaxed energy from before. Which is a shame, Akechi concedes, idly noting that they were nearing the subway entrance. Wakaba's eyes are narrowed when she says, “you still haven’t told me what you want me to do.”

“For me to do that, we have to head downstairs. Shall we?”

“Wait a sec, I think I dropped something…” She trails off when Akechi politely offers her pens to her, pleasant smile fixed to his face. Wakaba takes them with a deep grumble. “You know, I hate guys like you?”

“The polite type?” Akechi returns as they both turn towards the subway tunnel.

“No. The dickish type who always likes to be in control,” Wakaba says, and Akechi hums.

“Although I’m hurt by your accusation, you’re probably right, Ishikki-san,” Akechi agrees with his kindest smile on, and Wakaba huffs.

“Bah, disrespectful brat.”

“All I did was politely agree with you though?” Akechi says, and when Wakaba violently rolls her eyes and walks faster, an uncontrolled burst of laughter rips through him.

He blinks and puts a hand to his mouth in surprise.

“Well, you coming?” Wakaba demands, having reached the subway entrance, and Akechi nods, putting a more serious demeanour on as they enter Mementos.  


* * *

  
“These are Shadows, an agglomeration of a society's negative feelings,” Akechi explains succinctly as he crouches around a corner, Wakaba snapping photographs like mad as he talked. “But these ones that just wander around aren’t the types that I wish to focus on.”

“They don’t talk?”

“No. If you go to your app you’ll see you can type certain things in there,” Akechi takes out his phone now, and he shows her the name he inputted. “If you type a name in there you can find a particular individual’s Shadow.”

They’re lucky enough to near the cracked bleeding walls of a Shadow only after two dead ends. His target is standing in the middle of a small room, just like usual, and he’s muttering things to himself. 

“ _Hee hee hee_ ,” the Shadow of Kei Tanaka snickers to himself, his voice echoing around, distorted. “That girl totally didn’t see it coming. That look on her face when I reached into her skirt! Oh, her panties felt so good under my hands, and no-one even noticed me! A good day, _hee hee_ , such a good day indeed.”

Kei Tanaka was a serial train molester, one that hit a fairly high profile after he accidentally targeted the daughter of a famous celebrity, publicly lambasted and thrown into jail later in the year, despite the lenient laws for molestation.

Wakaba’s face is disgusted as she looks at the black Shadow of Tanaka, obviously not what she was expecting as she watches the Shadow's blazing yellow eyes crinkle up with glee.

“This is usually what many Shadows look like,” Akechi explains. “Every Shadow of every person mutter their own negative thoughts and feelings in its most unfiltered form. This, you could say," Akechi allows, tone dry, "is this man's heart."

Kei Tanaka stands there, sniffing his empty hands with delight, and Akechi wonders what Minato sees in people.

"Wait for a second, Ishikki-san, please stick to the side. I'll be finished soon.”

When Akechi faces Tanaka, Robin Hood is a burst of indignant injustice in his mind, ready to take him down.

“Wh-what? Who are you?” Tanaka stops muttering to himself, turning his focus onto Akechi. “What’re you doing here? You’re not welcome, get out!”

“Nothing. I just wanted to ask you if you can donate yourself to science for a bit,” Akechi says, blasé. “And while you’re doing that, to ask you to stop being such a creepy molester. Society is filthy because of trash like you.”

“W-what? Who’re you to speak down at me, brat?! It’s none of your business anyway! And even if it was, you don’t have proof! If you don’t have proof, then nothing happened!” Tanaka actually looks somewhat proud at the fact, giggling. "It was a crowded train, and the girl was too scared to move when I pushed up her skirt. _Hee hee_ , if I deny it, no-one can pin it on me!

Disgusting. 

Humanity is so disgusting.

“Well, it seems like I have to force you,” Akechi replies, his smile unravelling at the edges as he walks forward. The Shadow finally seems to sense a threat, quivering and transforming into a monster that seems vaguely familiar. Akira may have used something similar, once.

“You want a fight? _Hee hee!_ Bring it on! I’ll show that you can’t just boss your betters around, kid!”

Akechi’s hand is already on his mask and he pulls it off with a sneer.

“Robin Hood! _Megidolaon_!”

Robin appears in a burst of energy behind him and attacks immediately with a large flash of light. The Shadow screams in pain as it immediately withers back into its old state, a black figure now cowering into the ground as he huddles his head into his arms.

“Y-y-you win! Stop that, stop, it hurts! I’ll do anything you say, please don’t hurt me again!”

“You’ll donate yourself to science?”

“Y-yes!”

“You’ll stop being a disgusting human waste of a molester?”

“Yes, anything!”

Akechi clicks his tongue in distaste as he places his mask back on. When he turns to Wakaba at the edge of the room, her eyes are as wide as dinner plates.

“What,” she manages to say when she practically sprints over, her hands hovering over his mask like she wanted to steal it right then and there. “Was. _That?_ ”

Akechi blinks. How would he even begin to explain what a Persona was?

“Um… I’ll explain that later. First, let me explain what I want you to research.” Akechi walks towards the cowering Shadow and pokes it. The Shadow trembles, and huddles in further.

If he fails to outmanoeuvre Shido, he might have to prove his loyalty. Akechi, who is being groomed to become an assassin, can only prove his loyalty to Shido by doing one thing. Getting rid of his opponents.

The moment he had saved Shido with his Metaverse powers, he was already too deep. Shido had involved himself with Metaverse research even before Akechi came – although Akechi didn’t know how, the Metaverse was already one of Shido’s trump cards. Even if Akechi _had_ saved Shido with the Metaverse, if Shido knew there was a free agent in the Metaverse that wasn’t on his side, he would’ve used as many resources as he could to get rid of him, just like the Phantom Thieves.

However, Akechi _had_ gone to him, giving Shido an invaluable, convenient tool to make the Metaverse an easier resource to exploit. Now that Akechi held their contract in his hands it was either sticking with Shido or bear the consequences.

_Consequences._

Shido was the type of person who would kill someone, steal their research, and then do the unnecessarily cruel action of pinning the death as a suicide on an innocent child. He was the type of ask an investigator every month or so for a distant report just to enjoy their slow mental break-down and revel in his own power. 

_‘They deserve it’_ , he’ll justify, _‘because they stood against me.’_

If Akechi leaves Shido now, he knows he’ll be returned to an orphan’s institute as he’s kicked out of the dorm. His emancipation will be revoked and he’ll most likely return to Minato as a dead soul a few months later.

That’s something he can’t afford.

“Ishikki-san, if you kill a Shadow, they die in real life,” Akechi says blandly, and the Shadow underneath his fingers shrinks back in fear. “Take it from me as a fact. The death of a Shadow is the death of their psyche, and the two are irrevocably linked. What I want you to research is simple.”

Wakaba, on the other side of Tanaka’s Shadow taking a few notes, nods to indicate she’s listening.

“Two agents,” Akechi says. “One to make a Shadow fall into a coma, and one to make them wake up.”

“One question. Can Shadows sleep?” When Akechi nods to her question, her grin widens. “Then it’s easy. Deal! Give me a few weeks, and I’ll whip it up no problem.”

A few weeks.

It’s near the end of June, and Wakaba originally died in August.

Of course, Akechi has already slowed down the progress of Shido’s Metaverse experiments with him to a crawl, and Wakaba was only in danger once Shido actually started to _use_ the Metaverse for his purposes. By Shido’s notes, he had been planning to start his presidential campaign in August. 

That was why in his past life, Shido had ordered Akechi to start killing Shadows in the first place. It wasn’t as if Shido was going to delay his campaign plans just because Akechi was feeding Shido information drip by drip. Akechi had been a welcome factor, but these initial plans… they’d been made without him. 

Ultimately, _Shido didn’t need him._

It's a thought that makes Morrigan stir angrily at the back of his mind.

“You have until August,” Akechi says, and Wakaba thinks.

“Probably doable? That’s a pretty harsh deadline though,” Wakaba grimaces. Akechi responds with a close-lipped smile.

“You’re a genius right, Ishikki-san? I’m sure you can do it,” he encourages, giving her a friendly fist pump in encouragement.

When Wakaba gives him the most disgusted snort in existence, Akechi’s heart lightens a little.  


* * *

  
He clears out the wandering Shadows in the area while Wakaba pokes and prods the Kei Tanaka’s Shadow and does her thing. When she comes out with her large backpack all packed and ready, Akechi’s long been sitting at the entrance to the room finishing off his English review for the week.

“I have so much data!” Wakaba’s practically shouts, buzzing with energy. “And I’m working off pure adrenaline right now because I haven’t slept for the past thirty-six hours! I need coffee! Sojiroooo, where are you?”

Swallowing his comment that she probably needed sleep than more caffeine, Akechi glances at the time. It’s nine in the evening, which is a little late for dinner. 

“Your daughter?” Akechi asks as they walk to the exit, and Wakaba shrugs. 

“She’s fine, I dropped her off at Sojiro’s today telling her I had some overtime research to do. She likes that place, and I promised her we’ll get some late-night dessert together when I got back. There’s a special we both want to try,” she replies, jogging up the stairs of subway. Akechi follows her up and out, Robin Hood’s outfit transforming back into his normal wear as they go past the vet to a discretely parked car at the back.

“Well, this is me. Bye, creepy boy. I’ll message you when I’ll be free to meet up next week.” Wakaba waves and, with a tap, fades out of the Metaverse. In a few moments, the car disappears too, as Wakaba drives it off in real life.

It is silent again.

Akechi turns back the way he came, shimmering back into existence in an out of the way corner before strolling down familiar streets back to his dorm, buying himself a packed dinner from a convenience store on the way. He beeps himself through and goes up the stairs. The small room that greets him is becoming more and more welcome by the day, and he lets himself relax as he locks the door behind him.

As he watches conspiracy theories on his laptop from some random guy ranting about possible historical events caused by cognitive pscience, there’s a quiet moment when he realises that one of the bonds in his mind has changed.

**Devil Rank 1 – Masayoshi Shido**

**Fortune Rank 2 – Wakaba Ishikki**

**Universe Rank 10 – Arisato Minato**

Akechi stops chewing his salad in surprise. 

It wasn’t as if he and Wakaba had a deep and meaningful talk about life or anything. Why did it go up? He’s met with Shido way more, and he’s still stuck on Rank 1.

…Did Wakaba enjoy the research opportunity _that_ much?

Whatever, he’ll take it.

That night, he dreams of the Wakaba’s Shadow, and the despair in her tone when she stares down the gun in his hands. The world is burning around him, hot, humid August. The trigger is slick under his finger, but he pulls it anyway. Yellow light dims from the Shadow’s eyes, disintegrating into dust, but it's not a Shadow now, but blood splattering over the floor. Wakaba's brown eyes fade.

_“I’m sorry, Futaba.”_  


* * *

  
He wakes in such a foul mood the next day that not even an email saying he’s been accepted into the internship program can alleviate it. There’s a few checks and procedures they tell him he has to go through, but since Akechi had already applied for most of them while he was waiting, all he really has to listen to is the advice at the end of the email telling him to appear ‘in comfortable shoes’ and ‘formal dress’, and that the program will officially start by the 4th of July.

Shido sticks to his word – this Sunday, all he sent through the phone was a series of tasks he already knows the answers to. He quickly answers Shido’s assignment, making a note to send it that night, and rolls over.

It’s Sunday. He’s allowed a small break, now and then.

He keeps himself busy for the next week, waking up, going to school, diving into the Metaverse with a cheap laser sword he found at a dollar mart, and strengthening Morrigan as much as he's able. Her voice becomes more familiar over time. Like Loki, she likes to chime in from time to time again in the lonesome hallways of the Mementos as he's flitting about like a ghost. But where Loki offered silken whispers, Morrigan mocks.

 **Hah! What a lily-livered pig-brained fool,** is all she says in response to Shido's requests, and the accompanying days are filled with an unending series of insults that make Akechi more and more impressed as time goes on. If Morrigan truly drew on his Psyche to say such things, he's honestly a little impressed with himself. By listening to what Morrigan absentmindedly mutters as they delve into the Mementos together, he can insult someone without repeating for a few pages straight. He doesn't know if he can ever get to that level of vitriol outside the Metaverse, but sometimes he imagines saying some of these choice insults to Shido's face and laughs with Morrigan, who is equally entertained by the idea.

Robin Hood, who has never been very vocal, just sends random bursts of disapproval and amusement at them as Akechi maps out the confusing tunnels of Mementos again.

Wind blows to unknown depths. Perhaps, all the way to the hidden Mastermind who was watching him with all the amusement of a God, cold eyes staring up from the dark.

 **Do not overthink,** is all the advice Morrigan can give on in this matter, and it's good enough advice in regards to an issue he cannot change that Akechi decides to dismiss the thought until later.

All of this manages to keep Akechi busy until Friday comes and he reports into the Police Headquarters for Tokyo, neatly dressed in his semi-formal clothes. He joins another two boys, both older than him in full suit and tie. They all greet each other with basic bows before returning to silence in their small waiting area in the corner.

They're all a little early, so Akechi allows himself to bask in the atmosphere of the place. It's nostalgic - the foyer is filled with the vague artificial smell of carpet, leather and air-conditioning, the aged tiles and elegance reminding him of late nights and heavy case files. It makes him imagine the weight of his attaché case, coffee runs from a place worse than LeBlanc, and something in his heart settles as he sits in the foyer listening only to the cavernous echo of clicking heels against stone and steel.

The silence is suddenly shattered by a loud slamming door and a roar of anger. Everyone in the foyer jumps a little, staring at the two people who storm through a back door. 

"Just lend me one of them, Naho! There's three interns and we're short on hands! Even just someone to look over the cars and documents would be enough!"

"Atsuzawa, that's not how it works!"

The second exclamation comes from a harried-looking secretary who is following the shoulders of a well-trained man, thin as a whip and well taller than the Japanese average as he storms straight towards the three of them sitting in their discreet waiting area.

"It's your job to make it happen!" The man yells back at the secretary, and Akechi feels a pang of sympathy at the utter lack of patience that flashes over the woman's face. "Call the boss, use this phone and quick-dial five." The man, Atsuzawa, chucks a phone at the woman, who catches it neatly and starts hunching around the phone the moment the call connects.

"Yes, I'm sorry Director, yes, it's Naho speaking… Well, the matter is that Atsuzawa-san is demanding an intern for his division…"

That's all Akechi can hear before the tall man sits heavily onto a couch that faces all three of them. While the other two straighten themselves up in politeness, Akechi allows himself observe the man.

Atsuzawa has hair that is messily combed, a structured face that is clean-shaven and a little too sharp to be called attractive. A glare for eyes, jawline razor-sharp - all the lines in Atsuzawa are thin and long. Peeking up from his shirt is the beginnings of an old scar, and if this is who Akechi thinks he is, then he is a very odd surprise.

"My name is Fusazane Atsuzawa, and I'm the current leader of the Special Investigation's Unit for Organised Crime." The man's voice is slightly hoarse, as he establishes eye-contact with all three of them. "You're the newest interns entering into the General Investigation's Unit, right? What are your names?"

One of the other boys immediately speak up, shooting up to bow. "My name is Hideo Tanaka! It's nice to meet you today!" Hideo's voice loud and energetic, face eager and excited.

"It's nice to meet you today, Atsuzawa-san, my name is Daiki Haga." The second boy bows politely, and Akechi lets himself do the same.

"Hello. My name is Goro Akechi, Atsuzawa-san."

"Good, good…"

That's when the secretary, who had been quickly muttering a back and forth on the phone, comes back. "The Director agreed, Atsuzawa-san," the woman says with the look of a person who has seen too much coffee with too little sleep, and Atsuzawa merely rolls his eyes with a grunt.

"Of course the old man said yes, he owed me one after he cut my budget. Go away, Naho, I'm on a time limit here."

"Ugh! Say thank you for once in your life!" Naho yells over her shoulder before loudly muttering 'I want to switch departments,' as she stomps off up an escalator, and Atsuzawa turns his attention back to the three boys.

"I know you all applied for an internship for general investigations, but I promise I'll treat you right if you come into my division instead. My department specialises in Organised Crime. All of you know what it is?" Akechi and the three nod, and Atsuzawa breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Good. Now, my internship offer is basically the same as the general investigations – you're all just interns, so I don't expect you guys to do any specialised work on the field and such. Most of the time, you'll be looking over documents, fetching ridiculously long coffee orders, watching over video feeds, shadowing my team, and learning how to write reports."

Atsuzawa huffs a laugh.

"I'm not saying anyone's better but having a Special Investigation's Unit on your resume looks great. And I can guarantee that I'll recommend you to any other Special Unit afterwards. You'll have my back. The only thing is that anyone without a flexible schedule can leave now. The one thing I can't guarantee is a steady schedule."

No-one gets up to leave.

This time Atsuzawa beams. "Alright then. I have a brief selection criteria for you three since I can only take on one intern. My offer will go to whoever gives me the best answer, alright? You have five minutes."

As Akechi takes the piece of paper that Atsuzawa hands out to the three of them, Akechi wonders.

Is this fate?

Fusazane Atsuzawa isn't a name that is entirely unknown to him. He's a legend in the investigative circles, having busted two drug rings in a relatively young career, and his careful balancing of old-school yakuza relationships (a controversial move) and his high rate of apprehending criminals have served to give him great respect in both the upper-rings of the underworld and police. In addition to the fact he's basically a blue-blood, even as a second son, – a mother coming from long lines of ministry, and a father still in direct politics, led even Shido to decide to deal with him after his successful Presidential election.

Yes. Atsuzawa is entirely removed from Shido's circles. It's a deliberate move – Shido, being the head of his own ring of organised crime would rather not stir the hornet's nest yet, and two, Atsuzawa was famous for being known to be completely immune to bribes and benefits.

If he gets this opportunity…

Akechi's fingers shake only a little as he reads the question on the paper seriously.

There's only a small paragraph.

**Party A wants to ruin party B. But for party A to ruin party B, party A needs to work with party C, and party C is working with party D and E, who may be working with party F. Then someone in party F dies and accuses party D, but party D asserts that they were framed by party C, with party A being the mastermind. Party B is pleased, but suddenly gets hit by a white truck.**

**Who do you think is most probably the driver of the truck?**

Akechi blinks, right when one of the other boys look up quizzically from his own reading.

"Is there a right answer to this?" Haga asks politely.

Atsuzawa snorts. "It depends on your logic. I just want to see your answer."

There is little information, and it's worded in a way that invites confusion. But Akechi is good at logic. But most importantly, he's also good at showmanship. Combining the two isn't hard.

And perhaps, this time, Akechi wants to _crush_ his opponents.

He smiles gently down at the paper, glancing over it one more time before putting it down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"May I begin, Atsuzawa-san?"

The other two are obviously surprised at his speed. It hasn't even been more than a few seconds, and Tanaka managed to suppress a strangled _'what, already?'_ even as Atsuzawa raises one long eyebrow.

"If you're ready," is his answer, and Akechi reaches into his pockets. He didn't clean out his pockets after that presentation, so he should… Yes, found them. He takes out six paperclips and places them on the table.

"Let me begin by first establishing that it's obvious F's death is a murder. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be any point in pushing blame around."

He puts A and C's paperclip at the top, D and E underneath, and F as a lone paperclip at the very bottom of the stack. B is placed to the side.

"For B to be ruined, A needs to work with C, who presumably plans on using D to scapegoat B. The roles of E and F are ambiguous, but in general A, C, D, E and F are all in a coalition against B. However, something unexpected happens in the plan – F dies, accusing D as planned, but D accuses C, his partner, for the murder instead. This pulls A down alongside him."

Akechi points to each paperclip in turn, making sure to make natural eye contact with all three of his audience. Impressing Atsuzawa is his goal, but he's also trying to seem like he's good at being sportsmanlike. After a brief pause to recollect his thoughts, he continues.

"The chain of evidence shouldn't link to A. If D is working with C and A, then D should have accused B for framing them for murder as the mastermind instead. If that happened, A would successfully ruin B. That obviously didn't happen."

"The only one who would benefit from D's betrayal is B in this scenario, and that's why I suspect B may be the real culprit, trying to foil the plan to ruin him. Let's say that F was supposed to die. B must have then manipulated someone to break A's coalition between C and D, with A being accused as part of B's plan."

"Taking a step back," Akechi continued to explain, "A was probably using C because of his connections with D and E. F was merely approached for the murder. Maybe C was working with D and E to take down B because they have opportunities to hurt, or know B from before. If this is the case, this can explain why D or E betray C, since they knew B already."

"If D is the betrayer, D merely has to accuse C, and A's plan is ruined. If E is the betrayer, E can manipulate D to be suspicious of C, making the communication between D and C break down."

This time he uses a finger to shift D and E's paperclips into the middle, between B and A before leaning back into this chair, waving emphatically back to A's paperclip.

"In this scenario, the one with the most motive to kill B is definitely A. He still has the most motive. However, you can't discount D or E – they might also have a motive to kill B. Betrayal," Akechi smiles, "is complicated business. Sometimes, there are all sorts of reasons why parties choose the way they do. D or E may not be friendly to B, and may be trying to wipe away evidence of betrayal or even other reasons. So I would rank the probability of the truck driver as follows. The failed mastermind A, the betrayers D or E, the collaborator C after them because he has no direct relation to B, and F last, because he's mostly removed from the situation."

There are a few moments of silence as everyone takes what he says in.

"A-and I didn't even know where to begin," Tanaka squeaks, eyes wide as he looks at Akechi, even as Atsuzawa's eyes gleam and the slash of his mouth rises into a manic grin.

Akechi had let his mind run naturally, and what he said was definitely pure speculative logic. He knows that if he had time to write it out and examine the scenario with more depth, he would definitely pick out flaws and plot-holes. But this should be enough. He hopes this is enough.

"I'm impressed kid," Atsuzawa says. "It was creative logic from a scenario that doesn't give you much. Creative and quick, and with a logic that I could follow. Your assumptions have reasons, and in the real world, you can investigate that to see if you're right. Good job."

Akechi doesn't catch the proud smile quick enough, and Atsuzawa laughs, a hoarse bark of a thing.

"Okay, you two. You still have… three minutes."

Tanaka laughs, "No, I don't think I can think after that. I'll happily accept the general internship."

Haga takes a few more seconds before putting down his paper with a resigned smile. "Now I can't see anything but the scenario you stated, Akechi-kun."

Akechi bows slightly towards them in apology, even as Atsuzawa hauls his weight off the sofa and waves Akechi with him. "Seems like you have the spot, kid. You two, don't feel bad – you'll definitely have a chance to go to Special Units sooner or later. Work hard."

"Yes, sir!" The two say even as Akechi follows Atsuzawa's large strides towards the back of the building where the Special Units have their offices. However, they take different turns, going to a different section of the building that Akechi usually took for the team that investigated mysterious Mental Breakdown cases.

Eventually they sit in a small office, with only four more chairs in addition to Atsuzawa's.

"This is our team corner. It's nice and cozy, I know, you're welcome. Come read this, and sign it if you agree. Don't skim it this time," Atsuzawa tilts his mouth in a smirk. "This is legal stuff. I'll explain anything you don't know, so ask if you don't get it."

Akechi takes it and tries to pretend he's not skimming it. He's signed a similar one before – there isn't much difference except highlighting the greater duties he might be expected to uphold with a SIU instead of General Department. The warnings and such are still the same, confidentiality and expectations, and Akechi delays for a few minutes before signing it.

"Welcome to the team!" Says Atsuzawa, wiry arms clapping him on the back, and this time, Akechi is expecting it. An Arcana. The man in front of him has an atmosphere larger than life, a figure who can obviously alter his fate. A legend to be distantly admired sitting in front of him with expectation instead. When the space between moments comes, he stills along with it with a slight anticipation.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Justice** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Of course it's Justice, and Akechi's smile turns a few shades more genuine.

The thin face of Atsuzawa disrupts his thoughts, as he enthusiastically exclaims, "Great! You available tomorrow?"

"All day," Akechi confirms, and the knife-smile of Atsuzawa widens. If Akechi wasn't so used to staring down Shido's goons, he thinks Atsuzawa probably intimidated a lot of people.

"Perfect, perfect! Meet up with me at five AM tomorrow, at the entrance, at reception. Yes, there. We have a lead that needs our specialty outside Tokyo, and I need more hands."

That's… abrupt. Akechi rolls with it though, used to the odd hours that some SIU have to take on. If this case is the reason why Atsuzawa desperately needed an intern, he would embrace it with open arms.

"Where are we going?" Akechi asks.

When Atsuzawa replies with the name of the town, a few hours out of Tokyo, before continuing to chatter about giving Akechi a grand tour of the Tokyo Headquarters, it honestly takes a few moments before Akechi's brain stalls.

Wait.

Wasn't that the name of Akira's hometown?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my wonderful friend Mirufey, who chats with me on ships and fandoms and lowkey keeps my writing spirit alive. Thanks for sending the question too! You're amazing, I'm really glad to know you :)
> 
> Otherwise, sorry the chapter is a bit long and unwieldy. I had edited it down twice, but both times Archive had connection issues and destroyed the work, and I'm like... GAH and tried to redo what I did but sometimes it sounds unnatural and I told myself not to be perfectionist so here I am. Akira is in the next chapter, since Akechi wanted to meet Akira earlier here's his chance lol. Thank you for your kudos and comments last chapter, they really picked me up. We're nearly at 300 @_@ that's really quick wow um.
> 
> (anyone else excited for persona 5 (2) Scramble? it looks great. aaaah it's gonna take forever to get in english)
> 
> See you all next week!


	8. Chapter 8

Lazy curls of smoke drifted into the air, rising up to be whipped away by a gust of air-conditioning from the vents above his bed, and the woman lying beside him twitched her nose and curled up tighter. He didn't even know if the woman was a prostitute or not, but she sure seemed willing after he shoved a wad of cash in her hand yesterday. Without alcohol, he thought idly, her features were plainer than he thought. 

Shido sucked in another long breath of his cigarette to blow it into her face before getting up. Not much need to keep her around when she was so dull. He'd get a bodyguard to kick her out soon, after getting her details and setting up a monitor to see if she needed silencing.

When he walked into his office and sat down on his leather chair to start the day, a voice started echoing in his head.

**_“--------------------------------------."_ **

**_Him_** again. Shido adjusted his glasses as he leaned back into his chair, swinging it around to face the window behind him and the great expanse of Tokyo beneath. The dawn was rising behind tall high-rises, dim yellow tinging his desk with shadows. A city just waking up, millions of people living their own, oblivious little lives.

His. This was nearly all his.

"I've been holding my end," Shido rumbled in reply. "I've grown the Conspiracy. I will soon have another in my grasp."

**_“-----------------?”_ **

"What about him?" Shido asked, dark eyes monitoring the dawn as it lit up the sides of buildings, moments of blazing golden sheets of glass, the millions of people inside them, underneath him. A struggling country, beneath all its veneer, all its modernity. A country of indolent fools who yearned for guidance, for security, for safety, caring enough for the injustices that disturb their happy little lives, but never enough to rise up and take action for others.

 ** _He_** agreed to his philosophy – this otherworldly Being who promised to sway the masses of this country to him by taking advantage of their sloth and their continued wish to remain indolent and apathetic. If they were so willing to leave their future to someone else to solve, then Shido was merely their God-chosen answer.

**_“-----------------------------------------------------------------------.”_ **

Shido blinked in surprise, before letting himself run through what he knew of Goro Akechi. His memories recalled that scruffy teen in old shirt and pants, and the hate-edged tension in the line of his body that suddenly smoothed over into practised blandness. A confident negotiator, an innocent smile. He gleaned little of his true emotions from that moment forth. Shido had been reluctantly impressed.

"You told me you'll send me a tool, but it seems like you sent me a snake sleeping in the grass," Shido tested, and the voice scoffs.

**_“-----------------. ------------------------------------------------------.”_ **

"Is he that important?" Shido asked with an increased stirring of interest.

**_"---."_ **

Goro Akechi, and that faint spark of rebellion and disgust in his eyes bowing over to Shido's whims. It, he smirked, wasn't a bad picture. Shido had always liked a little… resistance in his relationships.

"Why him?" Was Shido's next question, but the Being didn't answer, merely bursting into laughter that echoed in Shido's mind.

Dawn was ending, and time was running short. Shido mused on his next question. Even though Akechi hadn't been the perfect tool he had been expecting the Being to deliver, easy to manipulate and fool and use as he wished, he had still been merely seeing him as an important resource to exploit.

Now the Being wished that he would tighten the boy's leash.

Controlling that boy's heart would have been easy before that sudden wash of logical calm. The Being had brought the boy to him with a heart already twisted with obsession, but that had suddenly changed.

Perhaps that's why Goro Akechi was of such importance to the Being. Perhaps he had somehow slipped out of his control.

Which is, Shido smirked, fascinating in itself. A person who could defy a God… Could be someone worthy to stand on his side.

"What do I get for all this extra effort?"

**_“-------------------------.”_ **

Not bad, not bad at all…

The morning sun now blazed strongly on his face, and the voice correspondingly faded. Shido closed his eyes, folding his hands in front of him as he took a moment to enjoy the sunlight. A few seconds later, Shido reached for his phone and tapped a number.

"Bring me all the information you've collected on Goro Akechi."

When the files arrived, the data was frustratingly scarce. It at most reached three pages, and even then most of it was the background check he already made. It seemed Goro Akechi kept a rather subdued, private lifestyle, one that would not be out of place on any honour student. He went to school, had no after-school activities, did homework until late, before sleeping and repeating the cycle. On weekends, he went to local cafes and enjoyed strolling around Tokyo. He mostly bought common amenities, clothes and food, and had a fondness for sweets and coffee.

The utter inanity of this report made Shido frown.

Akechi had obviously gone to the Metaverse if he could report his results back to Shido, and none of his current investigations had caught him out of his normal routine even once. He was obviously paying useless fools if they couldn't even decipher a teenage boy's actual routine.

When Shido read the last page, he scowled. Akechi's internship wasn't taken by the General Department, where Shido had planned to make one of his plants contact Akechi as a mentor.

Instead, _that_ troublesome fly had taken the boy under his wing. But when Shido scanned the details, he can only agree that the encounter between Atsuzawa and Akechi was entirely coincidental. Atsuzawa's bad mood over the drastic budget and personnel cut to his division had been well-known to anyone near the policing circle.

What else could he use?

His mother, perhaps.

Shido remembered her – had a nice few months with her before she got a little too desperate, talked about her son too much. Then she just became boring. He only neglected her a bit before she threatened action, so he had to get rid of her despite her pretty face. If Goro Akechi cared about his mother, this could be a good target…

Otherwise, a few people now and then whined at him to donate money to orphan institutions. Didn't Akechi come from one of those institutes, where children were picked like produce by foster parents?

No politician would touch such a socially taboo topic, so he'd ignored it. Thinking back, Shido remembered that there was an institute kid back when he was in high school, bullied until he committed suicide. He'd laughed alongside the rest of them, not thinking much of that dirty-blooded fool who always sat in the corner, reading poetry and wasting everyone's time by stuttering all day from anxiety.

Shido tapped his desk with a finger.

Akechi wasn't as useless as that boy. No, an ambitious person like Akechi would feel resentful, angry, and revengeful. Deluded, thinking a man like Shido had to take responsibility for a prostitute like his mother.

However, that was the obvious answer, and its obvious Goro Akechi was more than he seemed. He had played the sad, neglected, money and affection-hungry orphan at every meeting while his true thoughts lurked inside.

Shido rubbed his goatee in thought.

There were no other glaring weaknesses other than Akechi's mother, was there?

Well, no large matter.

He chuckled.

An opponent with no weaknesses merely meant he had to create one.

  


* * *

  


Akechi wakes up to the blaring alarm he set yesterday, and he rubs his eyes with a groan. It's still dark outside, and although the breeze is pleasantly cool when he opens the windows, he would really prefer it if the reason he could appreciate this coolness isn't that he's up at 4 AM.

No matter how bright and sunny his smile had been on those breakfast shows he used to guest on, he had never particularly been a _morning_ person.

But he shores himself up by thoughts of triple-shot coffee from the friendly café around the corner as he grabs the bag he prepared yesterday. He slides into his semi-formal clothes, leaves the dorm, and grimaces at the dark pre-dawn. Joining the half-dead shuffle of early workers into the station, he manages to cradle a beautifully hot coffee in front of the Police Headquarters by 4:45.

He's barely alive when 5 AM rolls around. Atsuzawa jogs up the sidewalk right on time, a large pack in hand. He looks like he didn't have the chance to go home yesterday as he's wearing the same clothes, beard unshaven and hair sticking up strangely on the sides.

"Good morning, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi greets with a polite smile and bow, trying to look like he's draining the dregs of his coffee with less desperation than he feels.

"Akechi, we're catching a 5:20 train, I pre-booked tickets already to Nishi-Hachioji. Hope you didn't think you can sleep during the one-hour trip, you're going to need to catch up on a few case files, hah," Atsuzawa rasps as he waves him to follow, eyeing his coffee cup in envy. "And buy me coffee too next time. I drink black, super-hot, and add as many shots as the barrister is willing to sneak in."

Akechi quickens his stride to match the tall man as he ignores other pedestrians and barrels straight forward.

"Alright, Atsuzawa-san. As long as you pay," Akechi replies serenely, and Atsuzawa grins.

"Neatly sidestepping my first rookie hazing ritual? I can usually leech a few days' worths of coffee until Naho comes for my head." Atsuzawa scratches his chin as he seriously contemplates his reflection on passing retail stores. "Am I less scary because I pulled an all-nighter?"

Akechi hums.

"Although I cannot say anything about your intimidation factor Atsuzawa-san, I've recently read in a scientific journal that the majority of the population do judge people with sleep-deprivation as less attractive."

It's to a small sense of satisfaction when Atsuzawa reacts like he expects, throwing back the sharp juts of his shoulders to laugh, a bright sound in the sparse morning streets.

"Hah kid, Naho is going to love you," he informed Akechi after they safely crossed the road, arriving at the wide station square in front of Tokyo Station. "I'm glad you have some guts. A lot of kiddos are too scared to talk up to their superiors. I know some guys like keeping their office all serious, but that's stifling in my opinion."

Akechi doesn't reply as Atsuzawa marches forward, busying himself by collecting their tickets and leading them onto the correct platform. They stay mostly silent as Atsuzawa texts rapidly on his phone while Akechi scrolls through the newest social media.

Rise was going to release a new album soon, Featherman R was going to do a new café pop-up in September, an article about the epidemic of school suicides… and didn't that actor get into a scandal later on because she was found to be doing drugs?

There's no interesting news so Akechi gives up after a while, scrolling through dessert blogs until they've settled into their seats. When they do, Atsuzawa takes out a clunky old laptop, lovingly preserved. 

"Okay kid, you're an intern so I can't show you everything. But I'm going to show you enough so that you know what's happening, what we're doing, and why it's important for you always listen to whoever you're stuck with. If I, or any of my team, tell you to go somewhere, you go. If we tell you to stay somewhere, you stay even if it seems stupid and long, and there's nothing to do. Okay?"

Akechi nods, and a part of Atsuzawa's glare softens.

"Good. I made a small info file for you yesterday. Read through that and ask me questions if you need to. While you do that, I'm going to catch up on some sleep."

Atsuzawa then shoves the backpack in between the window and his face, puts a folded tissue on top and settles down in his seat by folding his gangly body like a pretzel. He's snoring like a foghorn in seconds, and more than a few other people in the vicinity shoot irritated glances at them until Akechi gives them soft, apologetic smiles.

When everyone settles down, Akechi starts reading through the file.

The details were like this:

At the start of the year, the police were busy trying to catch all the minor gangs and groups trying to grow and fill in the power vacuum that Atsuzawa had left after he caught two major drug rings in a row.

All the way back in January, the general police caught a guy and treated it like a routine clean up – a hefty guy in his thirties called Shion Gen, who supplied drugs at bars as a side-hustle. In the day, he was normally a Flagman, a worker at the train station who flagged whether it was safe for trains to continue. They arrested him on the basis that he was caught selling drugs and did his term in jail.

However, in a week, he was dead in his home in the bathtub, wrists slit multiple times. It was judged to be murder, not suicide. One, there was a small note, written in blood on the side of the bath and hidden by the slump of his own body. It spelt **'Kazu'**. Two, the fact that the blade that made the cuts could not be found, and that there was a smeared drop of his blood with a foreign shoe print in the corridor. They rechecked his situation and found it suspicious – they determined from his communications that he wasn't a lone seller, but was probably a part of an organisation much bigger.

That was when Atsuzawa's team was called to check the situation.

Atsuzawa's team did their own routine check, and he called in on his 'contacts' to see if they knew anything about the situation.

Probably the yakuza, Akechi thought as he scrolled down to the next page.

His 'contacts' told him that Shion Gen lived in a territory where there was a succession dispute going on, and someone was probably taking advantage of that turmoil, the power vacuum, and the police's distraction to try seed their own network through the area. Either that or perhaps one of the successors was trying to amass quick funds for themselves through the drug trade. If there was further information, his contacts had refused to comment.

Forensics told them that the drugs Shion Gen was selling was of acceptable quality but didn't seem imported from overseas.

Their search had eventually found lead them now, months later, all the way to a town near Nishi-Hachioji, where they busted a pest-control franchise outlet. There, hidden in all the poisonous chemicals, inside canisters labelled Rat Poison, were buckets of the drug Shion Gen had been selling. In the basement, there was a high-end chemistry setup with compounds and chemicals ready to be processed.

The owner of the pest-control business had been a friend of Shion Gen's uncle – a man called Hideki Shibata in his fifties, who had been charged thirty years back for assault and battery and been in and out of prison several times throughout his life for other minor crimes. A small note from Atsuzawa highlighted that he had also been affiliated to his own 'group' by his extensive tattoos, though which 'group' remained unclear.

Hideki Shibata has not been seen for the last two weeks.

Shion Gen's uncle has already been deceased for the past ten years and was a lecturer at a community university specialising in science. Other than that, there were no direct connections between Shion Gen and Hideki Shibata. Looking through their combined contacts, there were 32 people with some form of 'Kazu' in their name. Investigations towards those were proceeding slowly.

Akechi scrolls down and sees nothing else, before sitting back in deep thought.

There are a few instances of strangeness.

Atsuzawa wouldn't have been alerted in the first place if Shion Gen hadn't been murdered with slit wrists. Had he been killed more efficiently, no-one would have known something more was happening. What had he happened upon, and why had the murderer killed with such a slow, inefficient method? It was also stupid to take the weapon. Highly odd.

Furthermore, Hideki Shibata was obviously a major supplier, but for him to disappear for two weeks and just leave the evidence of his crimes (worth, as estimated, at least more than a hundred thousand) lying around seems oddly unorganised for an obviously organised group. 

Akechi scoured his memories for something that could help this case, frowning as he taps his fingers against his elbow. Even after a few minutes, all his memory churns up is the fact that he doesn't hear much of Atsuzawa during the Mental Breakdown Cases. He's never truly seen him past an article here and there about various small breakthroughs, and even then they were rarely front-page.

No-one had ever dared to say a negative word about him, of course. His past accolades were too big. But no matter the amount of respect someone has, there will always be gossip, and Akechi had heard a stray whisper here and there.

What was it? Why had Atsuzawa become so low-key and subdued? Atsuzawa's case record had remained highly praised, so this case must have been solved in the end. Rumours of a large round-up and someone was... Yes, the investigative legend brought low because someone was fatally injured. Atsuzawa was not the victim but was ultimately blamed.

How though?

Akechi weaves his fingers together and rests his head on them, looking out the window to admire the dazzling yellow-greens of Japan's summer fields. Nothing else comes to mind, which isn't a total loss. It at least tells him one fact – if this case isn't something he remembers, it means it probably isn't related to Shido.

Junya Kaneshiro is already a major funder of Shido's campaign, and among the spread of his scams, there was definitely a drug trafficking scheme. As Kaneshiro is deeply entrenched in Shibuya, and Shion Gen was traced to be active in the backstreets of Asakusa, it might mean Akechi will have to go into this blinder than he expected.

The train rattles over a particularly rough patch, making a baby start crying and Atsuzawa's head to finish its slow slide off his bag. He jerks awake, eyes flying open and immediately notices that Akechi had reached the end of the document. "Kid," he says blearily as he scratches the side of his face. "You finished already?"

"Yes, thank you." Akechi nods as he slides the laptop over. Atsuzawa closes the lid and slides it back into his bag. "What will I be doing there, Atsuzawa-san?"

Atsuzawa yawns. "Transcribing interviews, taking notes, minding our stuff, shadowing one of my team. Even though I recruited you because I needed more hands, I know you're just a schoolkid. I'm not going to put you into anywhere near harm's way, don't worry," and Atsuzawa reaches over and ruffles Akechi's _carefully styled hair thank-you-very-much_ , and Akechi barely manages not to grimace.

"You can depend on me, Atsuzawa-san," he says instead, voice appropriately enthusiastic, and for the rest of the trip he busies himself with the welcome pack that Atsuzawa gives him that details everything he should know about working for the police.

Soon they step off the train and catch a bus for another twenty minutes or so, and just like that, he's arrived. It's a quaint township, at the foot of the mountains and filled with old ladies. There's a street market he can hear bustling somewhere close, and for some reason, it feels a little sacrilegious as he steps into unknown territory for the first time.

This was, after all, Akira's hometown. Something none of the Phantom Thieves ever got to see.

_Rain drips off the eaves, down in a veritable stream into the gutters outside LeBlanc, the shop warm and bright in comparison to the damp winter outside. Akira has, for once, stopped stirring curry or grinding coffee or even standing around letting himself be Morgana's mobile cat tower._

_He's sitting in front of Akechi, his glasses off because he'd gotten them wet. His sharp eyes are pleasantly shaded, the dip of his eyelashes creating shadows over his cheekbones when he blinks from the overhead incandescents – and Akechi hates how effortlessly he sits, slouch somehow elegant, fingers delicately tracing patterns from rising steam._

_Akechi had been mindlessly nattering about something regarding the concept of home and inheritance, insincere words floating about in the space between them to fill up the chatter. But Akira is taking it all in seriously, intensity somehow muted by the smile curling around his lips._

_"This is home," Akira says when Akechi gives him space to answer, and his other hand gestures languidly around the café, "more than any other space has been."_

_"May I ask that you share more of your opinion, Akira?" He replies, and Akira pauses a little. Akechi has noticed that he does this often when he wasn't teasing, as if he liked to think about what he said before he ever shared it into the world. It made everything he did say somehow weighted and important. Akechi thinks Akira never truly realises the extent the Phantom Thieves drop everything to listen whenever he says something out loud._

_"Home is… a feeling. People. Tied to a place that's your own."_

_There's something unbearably sentimental in Akira's face, looking around the place._

_So Akechi smiles and interjects. "Yes, I agree. The concept of a home is more than a mere argument of land-rights and mortgage debt, isn't it? Perhaps people are so prone to their ugly fighting whenever inheritance and money come along is because idealistically, they're all fighting for the scraps of nostalgia and warmth in their past tied to that piece of land. That feeling of home."_

_Akira's eyes search Akechi then, and they both know he caught onto the barbs that Akechi had hidden in his response. Akechi merely avoids his eyes and smiles into his coffee._

_"Beautiful," he murmurs. "You've done a lovely roast this time, Akira. Thank you."_

Akira's hometown.

Perhaps it shouldn't be so intimidating since he had already been to LeBlanc, Akira's self-proclaimed home and family.

Akechi swallows hard anyway as he follows Atsuzawa down the road into humid sunshine.

  


* * *

  


After walking a few roads, they stop in front of a large apartment complex where a young man dressed in a casual suit stands, face lighting up when he sees the two.

"Atsuzawa-san! And hi, the new intern!" Jogging over, the man peers at Akechi with friendly curiosity. "It's nice to meet you, Intern-san! I'm Yoji Takaki, your senpai! How old are you? Still in school right? How wonderfully young! You'll be shadowing me today, but don't worry, I'll take care of you!"

The end of his sentence is peppered with energetic laughter. Akechi has always tried to avoid loud people. But he's a co-worker, and this has made Akechi default into his most professional smile.

"Likewise," Akechi smiles, bowing slightly. "I'm Goro Akechi, Takaki-san. I will be in your care."

Takaki beams, and Atsuzawa sighs.

"He was the previous rookie," is all the explanation he has to offer, and Akechi watches as the older man squints at his watch. "Well, it's seven. Follow Takaki, Akechi. It's time for you to see how unglamorous our work is. I have an informant to catch, toodles."

As Atsuzawa waves them goodbye and continues to walk down the road, Takaki smiles down at Akechi, being a head taller than him. He has a plain face that's easily forgettable, but it's stretched into a smile that's clearly meant to be warm and welcoming.

"Come on, Akechi-kun! We have some people to interview! I'll teach ya on the job."

Takaki chatters as they head into an apartment complex, and waves at the whole building with a grand gesture. "Ta-da! Today, we'll be trying to get as many statements and opinions and such by people who knew Shibata-san! We'll be interviewing all the people on his floor, which is the fourteenth floor, as well as anyone who had recently engaged his services, as well as anyone who is a member of his mah-jong club. Since there was a rat problem apparently, we have a lot of ground to cover!"

"And how many are there?" Akechi asks as Takaki cheerfully hands him a clipboard, feeling a sense of relief as he looks at the apartment building. His chances of bumping into Akira have become infinitely smaller.

"Oh, quite a few! One hundred or so? Shibata-san was quite social before he disappeared!"

The relief is gone. _One hundred?_

Akechi pastes his smile on.

"Let's get started then, Takaki-san?"

"Of course! I'm glad you're so eager, Akechi-kun. Trust me, having a person by your side doing this sorta stuff will make time fly past!"

  


* * *

  


Time does not fly past, and most of the apartments they call upon are either empty or uninterested in being interviewed further than a few questions. Even Takaki starts to sweat as noon comes along, and he starts to become more and more impressed at Akechi's unflappable behaviour.

"Wow, Akechi-kun! If we were put together, they'll think you're the professional instead!"

"Even when the old guy yelled at ya, you were all calm and cool, Akechi-kun. That's amazing!"

"How do you know exactly what to say? I have to step up as a senpai!"

Akechi is trying his hardest not to wring Takaki's neck as he turns his polite smile down at his notes as they head to the next apartment they're targeting.

First, Shibata was quite a friendly individual. For the past few decades, he had been a friendly face around town, easily visible in the community. He'd never made a secret of his store being part of a pest-control franchise, and that he sometimes delivers goods to Tokyo to a store there.

A month ago, he had stopped appearing at the mah-jong club, but his business had still been running.

Many of the people who interacted with him regularly noted that he seemed 'nervous about something' but when pressed, 'didn't really know what. He was kind of secretive, you know?'

Although many remembered that Shibata kept referencing his 'wife' and 'kid' that lived somewhere in Tokyo, they've never seen anyone visit him.

One old man had squinted and said 'I think a man visited him once, a young guy. It was a few years back,' but when showed a picture of Shion Gen, he had shaken his head and said that wasn't him.

"This is the last apartment on Shibata's floor, Akechi-kun. We can catch lunch after this, okay? Thanks for being such a big help!" Takaki beamed, knocking on the door, and Akechi laughed.

"No, I can't take much credit, Takaki-san. All I did was stand to the side and take notes."

"Do you know just how much time you cut just by taking notes so I didn't have to do it? Don't underestimate yourself, Akechi. You were a HUGE help!"

The door swings open, and a teenage boy with a huge mass of curly black hair stands in the doorway in slacks and a loose t-shirt.

Absent-mindedly, Akechi thinks in the back of his head that the boy's hair is quite ugly. It's thick and unruly, covering the eyes and basically a mop all the way down to his shoulders (he obviously hasn't cared enough to get a haircut for a long time), and he lets Takaki take the lead again, standing back and thinking over all the details they've acquired. Takaki flashes his police badge.

"Hi, I'm Detective Takaki, and this is my assistant Akechi, from the police! We're investigating a missing person case, Hideki Shibata, who lived on your floor. Are you free to answer some questions for us?"

The teen in front of them stays silent, cocking his head to the side as he examines them. It's in the keen way he examines them both in turn that Akechi finds himself being drawn out of his thoughts with a niggling at the back of his mind.

Horrible hair aside, there's something achingly familiar in the way that the teen holds himself.

Akechi's eyes widen. It can't be.

"…Sure."

Akira Kurusu's quiet voice is practically deafening as he opens the door wider and waves them inside.

  


* * *

  


Akira's apartment is quiet, with only the ticking of a clock somewhere deeper inside maintaining some background noise. Akira himself stands there, hands in pockets, bare feet on clean flooring as he watches the two of them take off their shoes to head inside. The parts of his face that aren't hidden by the ridiculous mountain of hair he has on his head is as calm and unflappable as always, and Akechi feels a flash of resentment.

Here he is, still reeling from the betrayal of the sheer statistical improbability of Akira living in the _one_ apartment building they were questioning, and all Akira has to say about that was a soft, 'Coffee?'

Akechi bites his tongue while Takaki laughs.

"No, thank you! If you don't mind, I wouldn't refuse a cup of water though. Akechi-kun?"

Thankfully, the smile that he's pasted on all day seems to have solidified on his face, and Akechi manages to wrench out of his headspace enough to gently shake his head in reply before promptly forgetting his feet exist. He nearly trips over the step up out of the shoe area before bare feet step into his vision.

"Careful."

Akechi stares at the hand holding his elbow. Akira's grip is strong. He has seen this hand countless times with a few more scars than this young, smaller one. Grinding coffee, a hand-up after a harsh battle. Tugging members out of the way, tagging them, curled around a dagger. Pale fingers in dark hair, twirling a curl in thought.

_"Change Shido's heart in my stead… Please!"_

_A voice much closer than he expected – Akira must be standing right on the other side of the door. And there it is, a reply as reliable as always. It's a flat tone. There's an emotion Akechi can't identify, in the small waver of it._

_"I promise."_

_It's a good response from the only person in his life that he could trust, and Akechi turns to face the gun again, pointed directly at his heart—_

"Akechi-kun, are you alright?"

Takaki's voice cuts into the haze building up in his head. He will _not_ lose composure like he had after he met Takamaki. Akechi manages to find his footing and pull his elbow back to where it belongs, sending a distracted bob of a bow in thanks at Akira's direction before facing the detective.

"Sorry, Takaki-san. Maybe the heat is getting to me."

"Ah, I'm so sorry! It's my oversight as your supervisor!"

A glance from the corner of his eye has Akechi noticing Akira is still standing closer than he is comfortable with, hand already retracted back into his pockets. He has his head tilted again, observing Akechi, with that damnable mass of hair blocking his eyes. Akechi smiles at his chin.

"Thank you for before. Shall we?"

Akira nods and pads to his kitchen, where the two sit politely while Akira pours two cups of water and settles down in front of them.

Akechi sips water while Takaki does most of the questioning, taking notes. It's not particularly hard – Akira answers with short, to the point sentences – he didn't know Shibata personally. He knows Shibata has been living here since before Akira was born. Other details are inconsequential until Akira unexpectedly produces something no other person had.

"You mean, you saw him two weeks ago when you were coming home late? With two other people?!" Takaki says with excitement.

Akira nods.

"Are you able to describe them?"

Akira hesitates a little but nods again. Takaki's smile is so blinding Akechi politely averts his eyes, taking another sip of water.

"Amazing, this can be a breakthrough! Kurusu-kun, may I ask you to come to the station tomorrow, so we can take your statement and your description of the two other people? We'll have a profiler make a portrait!"

Akechi's overactive mind must be acting up because Akira definitely did not glance at him before nodding again.

Takaki continues beaming. "Great! Thank you very much for assisting us, Kurusu-kun!" 

Akechi's already packing up his notes while Takaki hashes out more details as to when and how tomorrow was going to happen when his face changes as he looks down at his buzzing phone.

"Oh crap, it's Atsuzawa-san! Akechi, hold the fort for a bit, I have to take this call. I sincerely apologise for my rudeness, Kurusu-kun!"

Akira waves at him that it's fine and Takaki takes his call to the shoe area with soft whispers, leaving Akechi and Akira sitting in silence at the small dining table.

It's surreal. He's never seen Akira surrounded by such domesticity – the kitchen at LeBlanc was hardly comparable to a home kitchen, filled with wear and tear, used counters and knick-knacks here and there. Akira looks comfortable here, his loose t-shirt ragged at the collar, sitting at the table making no effort to touch the phone he's placed on the table. Out of politeness, Akechi has refrained from using his phone too, leading to this current situation of silence as Akira keeps looking at him (or he might be – not that he could tell with _all that hair in front of his face_ ) and Akechi keeping the calmest smile he has on his face while he pointlessly shuffles his notes.

Somehow, when he imagined meeting Akira again, he never factored in _awkwardness._

It has never been an issue before. With the Phantom Thieves, his role as the detective to hunt them, his goal to charm and deceive them, there had been too many things that he could talk about and not enough time. He could approach Akira even in the beginning merely by asking him about the Thieves, exploring Akira's fascinating morals and character. Now, that was all impossible.

Normal small talk seems trite, talking about fashion trends seems wildly inappropriate, and asking Akira friendly things seemed strange when he was there as a detective's assistant. Who knew illegal activities were such a great conversation starter?

 _'Hi, you were the only friend I've ever had and the last time I saw you I sacrificed myself to atone for my horrible life choices,'_ seems like exactly the wrong thing to say.

As he's slowly resigning himself to the awkward silence, Akira shifts, hesitates. When Akechi looks up, Akira breaks the silence first.

"Why choose to be a detective?"

Akechi blinks in surprise (when had Akira ever initiated conversation?) and stops messing with his notes. It's a slightly strange question to ask a person you just met but it is _Akira_ , and he is perhaps the one person in the universe he does not wish to brush off.

"Ah, I must correct you, Kurusu-kun. I am not a detective just yet – I am merely an intern." Akira responds with a tiny shrug indicating no difference, and Akechi acquiesces. Fair enough.

"Any question related to career can be a difficult one to answer," Akechi replies, thinking of all the reasons he can't share. One-upping Shido, the Detective Prince title being convenient for Mementos diving, becoming a better rival for Akira in the future - all these things weren't things Akira in the present would ever understand. "But if I must answer, perhaps it is because as Hegel once stated, _'To him who looks upon the world rationally, the world in its turn presents a rational aspect.'_ "

Akira tilts his head quizzically, and Akechi lets out a small chuckle.

"It simply means that if one views the world rationally, our irrational world becomes rational. Many view crime as a force of chaos and disorder. I would argue that the detective is one of the major roles in society's system to view this chaos with rationality, to iron out order and make sense of bewildering acts of cruelty and harm. What's most admirable is that they create this rationality not only for themselves, but for everyone involved in the world around them - victims, the court, the Justice system, the perpetrator. I have always admired that, and so as soon as I could I applied for this internship."

It isn't a lie.

A younger Akechi had once sat starry-eyed as television detectives lay out the grand reveal to an evil murder. Putting disparate clues together that no-one else in the cast could understand into a scenario that fits, noticing small details and discrepancies to meticulously make a whole picture that entrapped the bad guy.

Justice. A harbinger of truth.

Akira takes that in with a thoughtful hum, mind obviously turning his answer over in his head. Akechi uses the moment to ask the question back.

"Have you thought about what you wish to be in the future, Kurusu-kun?"

Akira stops twirling a long lock of hair. "I don't know," he replies while gesturing Akechi to finish his cup of water. "I haven't really thought about it."

Akechi takes an extra sip before he replies, "Understandable. The future is filled with many choices, it can be hard to choose so quickly. And Kurusu-kun, don't worry about the water. I wasn't truly affected by the heat."

"…What were you thinking then?"

No particular answer comes to mind. "Your hair," Akechi's mouth blurts when the silence stretches too long because he obviously wants to die, and somehow his mouth just keeps going. "I was, well, it's summer, Kurusu-kun. Your hair is so long and thick," _and hideous_ , "and I was surprised," _because it engulfs your head._ "Your face, I mean, I think you'll look better with short hair?"

Akechi forcibly stops himself from talking more by taking a large gulp of water.

When he looks up after processing an unhealthy amount of frustration at himself in the span of a few seconds, he sees Akira patting his hair stoically. Akechi has no idea what he's thinking.

"Is it that bad?"

_Yes._

"No, please don't take my words into account—"

Takaki steps back into the kitchen with a loud apology then, and Akechi invites him back with relief. This first meeting is, in his opinion, much worse than the first encounter he had with Akira the first time. Sure, there were no personal stakes and he didn't have any reason to want to impress the other, so it was quick and nothing was exchanged, but in retrospect, wasn't that great? Fantastic, even. His famed eloquence had been working back then.

Oh god, Akira was going to remember him as the hair guy.

"Sorry, Kurusu-kun, Akechi-kun! As you know, business calls. Let me go over the details again with you, Kurusu-kun…"

Akechi is all too glad to leave conversing to the professional, tidying up the notes and slipping it all into his bag as they both retire out the apartment.

As he's leaving, there's a light tap on his shoulder. Akechi manages to calmly turn around.

"Yes?"

"See you tomorrow," is what Akira says before he closes the door. Takaki is smiling at their interaction, looking like he just saw a baby hedgehog sneeze or something.

"You guys got friendly, huh? That's great, Akechi-kun, but remember he's a witness! We have to keep professional boundaries, okay? It's part of the job," and now that Akira is out of his field of vision Akechi's brain is back online. A million topics for friendly, impressive, intelligent conversation suddenly flood his mind ten minutes too late. Akechi smiles up at Takaki viciously wishing Mementos existed here so he could hurl himself at some Shadows and slaughter the memories of the past half hour away.

"Of course, Takaki-san. Thank you for reminding me," he agrees amicably as they head towards the elevator.

Takaki hums a little off-key tune as they head to lunch, meeting up with Atsuzawa on the way. They don't actually keep interviewing the building – Atsuzawa judged they had enough material and set Akechi onto making a transcript of a recorded interview he obviously just finished while Takaki is sent somewhere else. That takes the rest of the day, and the three of them stay in a motel for the night.

Sunday morning finds Akechi inside the station sorting out yesterday's statements with Takaki when someone comes to fetch them.

"Your witness is here," a bored officer states as he raps on the door, and they both get up to greet him at the small reception.

Akechi blinks.

"Wow, you cut your hair, Kurusu-kun!" Takaki says, friendly. Akira's eyes, now perfectly visible, glance at Akechi before he replies to the detective.

"I got some advice."

"Well, believe me when I say you look great," Takaki says as he leads the way to their borrowed room, pulling out a chair for Akira to sit. "Want water, tea?"

"Water please," Akira replies before he looks to Akechi when Takaki goes to fetch a cup. "Better now?" He asks, and Akechi can feel his ears redden.

"Really, Kurusu-kun, I didn't mean—but yes," he quickly changes his statement when it becomes obvious Akira isn't interested in apologies, "you look better. Much better."

And there it is, that tiny smirk that was the closest he ever got to Joker's wild one when he was in the Real World. As the moment stretches, it strikes Akechi that there's just something so absurd about all of this - Akira had cut his _hair_ \- that he can't help but give into quiet laughter. He can't stop - his laughter fills the room, and Akira's small smirk fills into a wider smile, and somehow the world doesn't end.

This is one thing that seems to never change, despite all the time he's known Akira.

Unpredictable. Just as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shido is trash and plotting things.  
> Also, featuring Akechi, struggling despite all the smoothness that will return anytime Akira isn't in his line of sight. He's going to go back into a smooth manipulative guy soon, I swear. Sorry, I had to set up Atsuzawa's arcana this chapter. Akechi's going to be the detective he always wanted to be.  
> (akira is really hard to write. he's also a slob, btw, and just cbbs getting his hair cut until a cute guy came along)  
> Thank you for your comments and kudos guys. I really like reading your speculations, and sheer support (the other answers to the logic puzzle were really fun to read). It's heartwarming and definitely helps my motivation to write, hehe. We've reached 300 lol. What is this.  
> I hope this chapter was ok. Work ramped up a bit, I'll go over it again during the week.  
> See you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

After Akechi had met Akira, had listened to the Phantom Thieves' stories and feats, of their successful heists and the genuine admiration, there had always been a wish in his mind. As he returned to his own monitored apartment, carefully maintaining his mask as he prepared for sleep. As he planned the week ahead, wondering how to manoeuvre the Thieves, contacting agents to make sure everything was perfectly in place. As he took calls from Shido, as he tried to shake off the moments of _tiredness_ in-between moments of rage, as he planned his own self-destruction alongside a shot to Shido's head.

If only he had met Akira sooner.

If only he had met Akira sooner.

_If only._

Would Akira have worked his magic on an empty person like Akechi too? Found Akechi when he was still just a normal kid with no powers, putting on a fake mask to please the teachers, to be unreachable to bullies, trying his hardest to claw himself out of the pit that society had dug for him by his sheer birth?

Pulled him from an exploitative parent like Yusuke, saved him from society's apathy against abuse like Futaba, built self-worth with him like Makoto, given purpose like Ryuji? Would he have accompanied Akechi after their world shattered like Haru, and forged a path to heal together like Ann?

Perhaps. He could see it, another, less cynical, less resigned Akechi who stood by the Phantom Thieves to denounce Shido.

And perhaps, in those last moments, Akira saw it too.

The keen possibility of it kept Akechi stay up some nights, his mind wandering the what-ifs of an alternate universe even as he woke up to continue forging forward. He wasn't one to dig a grave and not lay in it.

But it was enough for Akechi to stand one night in front of Akira, words stuck in his throat.

_Would you leave the Phantom Thieves and join me?_

Akira, head tilted in confusion, surrounded by millions of glimmering neon lights after rain. Crowds passing them by, the ocean of faceless strangers in Shibuya night-time. The hubbub of the crowd washed away his thought half-formed, and Akechi let the moment pass.

Perhaps it would be better to never ask so that he never hears the answer.

Perhaps, as no matter the answer, he would be disappointed.

"I had a lovely time today, Akira," he smiled instead, and Akira's face smoothed out. There's a quirky kindness in his returning smile, his face lit in the mottle of multi-coloured lights.

"Me too. Don't be a stranger, Akechi."

"If my schedule permits, I would be more than happy to join you again soon," Akechi replied with a rueful laugh, and they part. It was nearly time to invade Sae's palace. Something in Akechi's chest felt suffocated as he watched Akira leave, still unknowing of everything.

He stood there that night for a long time.  


* * *

  
Akira has always been more expressive through his body language than the words he speaks.

Thoughtfulness was expressed through a slight furrow to his brow, a dip to his head to indicate he's listening seriously. When standing, he tended to slip his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side as he paid attention to whatever had caught his interest, and that focus was usually unwavering until the object had finished whatever it was doing.

Sometimes it was watching Morgana eat his sushi, patting him on the head when he started complaining about fish to rice ratio. Sometimes it was watching Futaba schooling Yusuke in the ways of popular culture with a small smile. Sometimes his eyes, behind the sheen of his glasses, would observe Akechi as he shared his viewpoints on self, justice, consent and morality in the context of society, chewing on the information, already formulating his own response.

Unlike Akechi's carefully maintained posture, Akira was always slouching somehow, in a way that showed he was comfortable in his own skin.

It had been another point of envy for Akechi, that Akira's movements were based on such confidence. Masks sometimes stretched thin on his own face, and his patience was often worn down so much that his hand sometimes cramped from how hard he was holding his attaché case.

It's strange, Akechi thinks as he dutifully assisted Takaki with recording the conversation, that Akira didn't spark any traumatised flashback of murder, of either Akira or himself. Instead, while Akira was interviewed (amazing Akechi when he spoke more than three sentences at once), all Akira's voice sparks is a general sense of nostalgia.

Although Akira was much more awkward than he remembered, the mannerisms were all still there.

"Thanks, Kurusu-kun," Takaki exclaims now, boisterous as always as he gets up with the records and papers and gives Akira a big grin. "Would you mind if we contact you again if we have any further questions?"

Akira shakes his head. "I don't mind."

Takaki nods and waves at Akechi. "I have to process these; can you accompany Kurusu-kun to the entrance? Come back here after."

When Akechi acquiesces, Takaki leaves the room with a cheerful air and Akechi turns his smile to Akira. "Thank you for your patience today, Kurusu-kun," Akechi bows slightly. "You've given us much of your precious weekend for us, and you deserve our gratitude."

Akira slightly shifts his shoulders in a half shrug, eyes still trained on Akechi. Akechi had always had the opposite problem, smiling, nodding, glancing away, deflecting until necessary. It's hard to stop a fidget crawling up his spine as he waits patiently for Akira's answer. It's obviously building there, at the tip of the tongue as Akira ruminates how to word it.

"It's the right thing to do," Akira ultimately says.

His quiet reply only brings Akechi's smile closer to the surface.

"And that's what admirable, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says, genuine, before leading off into soft laughter. "I won't take more of your time. Let's go."

He finds himself talking about appropriate food places, a topic that he had prepared beforehand last night to avoid the mortifying situation from yesterday. "Do you have any recommendations, Kurusu-kun?" He asks now, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"There's a bakery around the corner that's pretty good," Akira says, pointing to a vague direction on the right. "They have a lunch special right now too, so if you want to catch it make sure you get there before three."

"Alright, I'll check it out," Akechi says, and Akira responds with a flash of a small smile.

Bright sunshine hits their faces the moment they step outside, and Akira squints against it.

"…This was easier when I had my hair."

Akechi raises a hand to his mouth to cover a small laugh. "Your hairstylist did a good job," he compliments as they linger at the entrance.

"Expected something more hideous under it?" Akira asks, a tilt to his mouth, and Akechi shakes his head with a fond smile.

"Of course not. You're—" He pauses when he meets Akira's grey eyes. "Hm, fishing for compliments, are you? That's awfully familiar of you, Kurusu-kun."

"Am I?" Akira asks back before he glances backwards. "It seems like they're calling for you. Thanks for leading me out, Detective-kun."

And just like that Akira heads down the road, hands in his pockets and pace a lazy saunter. Akechi watches him go, feeling a little suffocated as he struggles to call him back and find a reason to connect. Even after a night of ruminating, he still didn't know how to make Akira stay, or leave his contact details in the capacity of a friend. As Takaki said, after all, he was still a witness, and it was his duty until at least the case was over to keep a professional distance.

Perhaps, in a way, he had always imagined Akira to be the one reaching out to him than the other way around.

Akechi stands there for a second longer before turning back inside, giving a polite nod to the receptionist as he passes them.

Trying to connect to people is hard, he complains to the ever-present presence of Minato in his mind, and Minato just gives him a commiserating shrug.

"We got a basic profile picture now, Akechi-kun," Takaki says with a large grin when he gets back. "Don't you remember that old guy we interviewed yesterday, who said someone young visited Shibata once? I want to go back and ask if any of his memories match these profiles."

Akechi nods, pulling out their notes from yesterday.

"The man was called Genji Watase, a part of Shibata's mah-jong club. They've been casual acquaintances for the past seven years and lived in Flat 302. Are we heading out now?"

"Yep," Takaki says, hefting a small bag onto his bag. "No time like the present!"

Winding the path back to Akira's apartment block, Genji opens his door with a squint. The old man is hunched after years of labour, but his humour is generally affable as he invited them into his home again. Spindly fingers and hard-worn callouses shakily prepare tea until Akechi firmly takes the teapot from his hands and pours them all a cup.

"Since you just came in yesterday," Genji says as he closes his hands over his ceramic cup for warmth even on a summer's day, "I guess you found something new?"

"Yes, Watase-san," Takaki says sincerely, pushing the two profiles of the men Akira described over, as well as a text transcript of his description over the table with two hands. "We found a man who saw Shibata-san before he disappeared with these two men. As you've mentioned that someone visited Shibata-san before, we wished to know if it was these two?"

"You're testing an old man's memory here," Genji jokes as he pulls the two portraits close and squints at them. He glances at both of them, before shaking his head at the first one.

"I don't know who this is, but the other one seems familiar." Genji points to the small star-shaped scar on one man's face, before faltering. "It's impossible though, aha, just an old man's nostalgia…"

"Anything and everything helps," Takaki smiles. "Genji-san, if you've thought of something, please don't hold back."

"Alright," Genji sighs, taking a sip of his tea and staring down at his cup, looking small and withered. It's obvious just with a glimpse around his apartment that this man has been abandoned by his family – although there are a few family photos of a younger Genji and his wife with a few children, there are none with his adult children except one, where a photo of a wedding sits in the middle.

Right next to this is a small shrine with the photo of his wife in it, lovingly preserved and a bowl of fresh rice in front. The calendar is marked with events – sales at the market, mah-jong night every Tuesday and Friday, but there are none indicating visits.

It's a small apartment with only an old futon and an aged TV in the room over, the only source of entertainment he could see. Akechi has seen scenes like this many times over, where the turmoil and growing economy after the war had forced many fathers away from their families to find work, leaving them to grow estranged and distanced from children who didn't care for a figure who only ever sent them monthly cheques throughout their lives.

Now in retirement, this man has nothing to live for except waiting for death, perhaps, too scared to disrupt their children's lives with his own poverty and circumstances. Thinking himself as shameful, with no worth to provide to his family. Akechi's mind thinks back to his own mother, killing herself because of a mix of shame and despair.

So many in the world who took such irreplaceable care as inconvenient trash. Akechi keeps his face placid as he pours the man another cup of tea.

Genji gives him a small surprised smile as he lifts the full cup, dark wrinkled face crinkling up into familiar, deep-set lines.

"Well, that scar looks very familiar, because it was a famous story back some years ago," Genji says. "Small Yahiro-kun from a block over had an accident when he was playing baseball. The ball hit him right there, on the forehead, and everyone thought he was a goner for sure. But he came out of hospital no worse for wear, except now he had a strangely shaped scar to show for it."

"Yahiro, is it?" Takaki nods readily. "Where can I find him?"

"That's the thing," Genji says. "He died a few years ago. I even attended his funeral, so isn't it an impossible story?"

Akechi and Takaki glance at each other.  


* * *

  
"The Yahiro family moved out after their family tragedy to somewhere in Tokyo," Takaki is reporting to Atsuzawa at the station, "and we visited the cemetery afterwards. There was a grave indicating a seventeen-year-old Morio Yahiro did die. We looked at the family registry, and he's marked at deceased."

"Scars like this are very rare though," Atsuzawa says, leaning back into his chair with his legs crossed and face creased. "We'll have to look further into this. Faking death isn't that hard when you have certain contacts. Akechi, do you have anything you want to add?"

"I was just wondering where Shibata was delivering his drugs. He said his store was part of a franchise?"

"Ah, yeah, that," Atsuzawa sighed. "That franchise thing was a lie, by the way. I was searching that, amongst other stuff. Shibata seemed pretty prone to lying about this and that to make himself look better. When we looked at his delivery records, all he did was send his goods to some unaffiliated warehouse. Several companies rent that warehouse throughout the year, so we still need to search through all of those…"

He groaned. "Right when we needed it most, that old man cuts our budget. I swear, the things he does sometimes makes no sense."

"It's alright, Atsuzawa-san! We'll get through this, no problem!" Takaki encourages, his large frame slapping Atsuzawa on the back, and the thinner man winces.

"Mind your muscles, Takaki."

"Yes, sir!" Takaki salutes, and Atsuzawa's sour face breaks into a small smirk.

"Now make yourself useful and buy me a black coffee. What do you want, Akechi?"

"A cappuccino would be nice."

"Alright, leave it to me!" Takaki beams, stretching his spine as he gets up, heading to the door. "I'll be back in a jiffy!"

Akechi watches Atsuzawa's face gain a small devious look, and he asks slowly, "Is Takaki-san still buying you coffee with his own money?"

Atsuzawa winks, bringing a long thin finger to his lips. His foot taps the floor in a happy rhythm.

"Shhh, don't tell him now."  


* * *

  
They work throughout the afternoon – Akechi's transcribing Atsuzawa's interviews again, and it takes hours off the day while Atsuzawa himself now goes through social security and civilian records that are normally barred for access trying to track down the Yahiro family, and applying for permissions to search certain areas. Takaki has been sent out to do more groundwork, and the rest of the time it's silent between the two as the sun behind the slat-shades starts to dip.

"Isn't this a pain," Atsuzawa groans as it hits five, finally closing his laptop and near dripping off his chair with a slow slide downwards. Somewhere during the middle of the afternoon, the air conditioning had slowly failed to beat the heat, and now the room had an uncomfortable muggy air. "Is the life of a detective fulfilling your dreams, kid?"

Akechi puts down his headphones and finishes typing his last sentence.

"I didn't have any glamorous notions in the first place, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies.

Even back when he was just faking the leads to various mental breakdowns, the paper trails that he had to plant had been immense. For real investigations, being next to Sae as a prosecutor, there had been less fieldwork and more trawling through case after case after case, reading stacks of paperwork, and even then it had been gruelling work.

Now with Atsuzawa, he's on the side of creating the evidence and tracking down the culprit instead of arguing for prosecution, that's all.

"Good, you're not put off by all of this yet," Atsuzawa smiles, laughing. "I was scared of that. Want to buy us some dinner? I'll reimburse the costs, don't worry. Buy anything that we can eat on the train back, we'll be leaving Takaki here. You need to get back to Tokyo to get some good sleep. You got school tomorrow, right?" Atsuzawa's lips twitch. "Heh. _School._ What a blast from the past. I'm so glad I don't ever have to go back there. Sucks to be you, kid."

"School isn't that bad, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, even though it does honestly feel a little strange to go back to school's bubble of mundanity after two whole days of the detective work he's always dreamed of. To go back to the gossip of his peers seems…

He doesn't think more of it, and Akechi gets up from his seat with a wave, which is rather rude, but all Atsuzawa does is grunt as he lays his head on the table to catch a nap.

Akechi honestly knows nothing about this town and the eateries that are available except the bakery that Akira mentioned all the way back in the morning. So he heads right, continuing towards the bakery he spots a little farther down the road.

He's a little disheartened to realise that the local shop was already preparing to close, with only a blurry shadow of a lone worker inside stacking chairs and wiping down tables through the dark glass. Akechi might be a little too used to the times shops closed and opened in Tokyo (though it makes sense, perhaps, that a bakery closes by five), and he's about to turn around and boot up his phone when the door jingles cheerily.

"Hey, Detective-kun. Didn't I tell you to come before three?"

Akechi's fingers freeze as his gaze darts up.

Akira's small smile greets him, holding the door open by one hand and letting cool air slither out. He's dressed in a waiter's apron over the same ragged t-shirt and jeans, and the small sense of frustration he's maintained all day lifts when he sees Akira's face. Akechi responds with his own, wider smile, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Kurusu-kun! I didn't expect you here!"

Akira waves Akechi inside the bakery, switching back on some low lights in the shop as Akechi breathes in the smell of bread, sweets and some sort of meat.

"I must have forgotten to tell you," Akira says lightly as he passes him, picking up the disinfectant and cleaning cloth and putting it back on the counter as he stands there, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I work here. Though I wasn't lying when I said that the bread here is pretty good."

"Akechi, please call me Akechi. I'm not truly a detective yet," Akechi replies, taking a few steps around to the bread displays that haven't been packed away yet.

"Okay, Akechi," Akira says, straight up ignoring the polite suffix. Akechi honestly isn't prepared for the wave of nostalgia that it brings.

Emotions are irrational, he chides himself as he turns to collect a small tray of some sort of cheese bun. In the end, he fills the tray up with all kinds of bread – it doesn't matter how much he gets if Atsuzawa is going to get it reimbursed, and he could probably save some for tomorrow's breakfast.

"Do you bake as well?" Akechi asks when he arrives at the counter where Akira has been slouching against, watching him. He finds himself strangely invested in these small facts that no-one knew about Akira.

Did he ever mention that he worked at a small bakery before? Sojiro only ever served curry, rice and coffee, which is admittedly a strange combination. No bread, though. If he could bake, why never mention it?

"No," Akira shakes his head. "I only help out here casually. The owner is a family friend." His movements are efficient as he checks the bread out, putting all of it into a small bag. Then he pauses, before reaching to the side and putting a small box of cookies in the bag as well.

"Try these. Tell me what you think next time."

"I don't know when next time will be," Akechi replies ruefully, handing over the cash and preparing to take the bag. "I've only come here this weekend because of my internship to help with the investigation."

Akira tilts his head at that, stuffing another box of cookies inside the already bulging bag before offering it to him with no explanation at all. Akechi stares at the overstuffed bag with a small sense of exasperation. He honestly never does know what Akira is thinking. He takes the bag with a smile of appreciation, nonetheless.

"Thank you. If I ever come here again, I'll be sure to visit the bakery a little sooner."

Akira nods seriously. "You better. I'll even try baking something, next time."

Thinking back to how delicious some of the curries Akira cooked were when he tried, Akechi flashes his friendliest smile. The ones the photographers always told him to use whenever he had magazine coverage.

"I'll look forward to it, Kurusu-kun."

Akira blinks at him, before dipping his head down to hide behind a fringe he no longer has.

"…It's a promise."

In the quiet moment where Akechi is trying to read Akira's body language to see what he's thinking, he's honestly unprepared when the voice comes. He expected it later – perhaps, when he 'accidentally' bumps into Akira during their first adventure with Kamoshida, or when they first delve into their infamous disagreements over the morality of changing someone's mind through cognitive manipulation.

But no, a gentle voice flows into his head, and Akira in front of him stills as Akechi's heart beats a little, perhaps, about what this means. Could mean.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Fool** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

The Fool again. The one who promises infinite possibilities.

When reality snaps back in, Akechi can't help but feel fondness as he looks at Akira in front of him.

Perhaps their meeting didn't fulfil the expectations he had in mind. Akechi isn't a Detective Prince of his own making yet, and Akira isn't the Phantom Thief he would be, confident, suave, and their powerful, indomitable leader crusading through the evils of society. He's not yet the man who would save those who couldn't be saved, and Akechi's previous dreams of Akira swooping into his life and saving him like all the others are probably impractical, at best.

Akira had his own life, after all, before his unjust probation.

But even so, perhaps this is yet another step to the future Akechi is trying to achieve. Perhaps Akira couldn't be the one to make the first move now, to be the saving hand in the dark.

This time to make sense of opportunity, Akechi will need to reach back first.

_Try living without rejecting the world, my friend._

Maybe this is what Minato meant when he asked him to look and reach out for himself. A true partnership wasn't a one-man-show, after all.

And Akechi was never only a victim now, was he?

"Goodbye, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says now as he opens the door to leave with one last glance back at Akira behind the counter. Akira's expression is as calm and inscrutable as always as he nods back at Akechi.

He engraves the name _Violet's Bakery_ into his memory as he walks down the pathway back to the police station, where he shows the large bag of pastries to Atsuzawa, who had already packed up and gestured for Akechi to do the same.

They leave the police station at a jog to catch the train back to Tokyo on time, the orange sunset glaring into their eyes as they settle into their seats. Akechi munches on the cookies Akira gave on the train ride back, the creaking metal seats gleaming with worn, scuffed shine on the empty train late afternoon. Outside, the lights of the town soon fade into the encroaching darkness, with the brief flash of a countryside house still awake.

Throughout the trip, Atsuzawa had been tapping away at his laptop, eating through their stash of bread as well. He leans back with a sigh when the train announces that they're nearing Tokyo.

"Kid, you don't have any after school clubs? We can accommodate, but it'll be rough."

"No, Atsuzawa-san. School finishes by four, so I can be at Headquarters by four-thirty on weekdays."

"Good, I'll get Naho to greet you tomorrow and I'll be there to lead you through some of the investigations we'll be doing. I'll have to double-check them first, to make sure they're not dangerous when we go."

Akechi blinks, before laughing politely. "Atsuzawa-san, you don't need to worry so much. I can take care of myself."

"Nah, kid. It's not that I don't believe in you," Atsuzawa says, reaching over to ruffle Akechi's hair again. He bears it with stoic silence, and Atsuzawa's grin is shit-eating, as if he's seen through Akechi's polite façade. "Takaki gave you stunning reviews, and you've only been professional and diligent in every task I've given you, so if you say you can handle yourself I'll believe it."

"But," Atsuzawa continues in that dry rasp of his – he'd probably smoked when Akechi was buying bread – "is that no matter how amazing you are, it's my job to keep you safe, got it? You're great, but you're still just an amazing _kid_ , and so it's doubly my job to make sure you get taken care of, a'ight? I can see an amazing detective in you one day, and it's my job to get you there."

Akechi honestly doesn't know what to say. Atsuzawa seems to sense that with a small frown.

"Oi, I know you're emancipated and all so you're more independent than most kids, but aren't you like, fifteen?"

"Sixteen since the start of June," Akechi replies automatically, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, basically a baby. Kid, I don't know what happened to you and it's frankly not my business to pry, but under my watch, in my division, safety comes first. Got it?"

"Got it," Akechi echoes, and distracts himself by eating a large bite into the sausage bun he has in his hands. It's oily and satisfying, and his shaking fingertips are easily hidden by pressing into the bun a little harder.

Atsuzawa himself has bitten into his own custard bun with satisfaction. "Oh, these are _good_. Where did you buy them from again? That bakery down the street? I'll get Takaki to deliver some next time he comes back; he'll probably bring a whole bag and insist on treating everyone! That guy is amazing," and Akechi lets that low voice washes over him as he eats a custard bun next.

They are, indeed, quite tasty.  


* * *

  
They arrive in Tokyo soon enough, and Atsuzawa seems to wilt a bit when he stares at Headquarters.

"Okay, back to work for me, and home for you. See you tomorrow, Akechi. Don't need to bring anything, just wear something neat and comfortable. It'll be a long day. You catch the train here, right? I'll get you added to the list so that your travel costs are covered. Ugh, so much work," Atsuzawa groans as he heaves his bag onto his back with one wiry arm and scratches the beard that had started appearing again.

"See you tomorrow, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi bows before joining the crowds of Tokyo. The world is yet again a wash of neon lights and late shoppers, and the familiar anonymity of it all gives him a strange reality check as he starts to wake up from the peaceful serenity the last few days has given him.

The familiar dust, pollution and laughing crowds, the familiar sense of Morrigan and Robin Hood back in his awareness, the Metaverse app again a prominent red on his phone.

There were two recent messages actually, but he waits until he gets back to his dorm before opening them.

Wakaba's message is just an excited mess.

[MadPscientist: !!!!!!!!!!]

[MadPscientist: okay dont be mad ok but i kinda entered the metaverse without you because i couldnt wait to try a hypothesis ok my brain was going nuts]

[MadPscientist: and it worked omg when are you free i'll show you but it has to be a little late because some stupid guy in my lab messed up my data and i have to fix it up]

He puts that on hold for now as he looks at the second message. It's a text this time, and the name that flashes on the screen is one that makes Akechi narrow his eyes.

**Change of plans. Meet up tomorrow.**

GA: I will only be free perhaps after nine, is that alright?

After a short pause, there's a reply indicating that he should arrive by nine-thirty at the apartment they met up before again, and Akechi is honestly a little confused. Shido hated having him in his private space, normally, but he sends an affirmative anyway.

He schedules Wakaba the day after, before collapsing into bed after arranging the correct assignments and books into his bag for tomorrow.

He looks at the Arcanas in his mind with a sense of satisfaction, lingering on Akira's name, before falling to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a little late, archive had a few connection issues so I let it rest a few hours.  
> Akira is now an official arcana, haha. He shoved more cookies in the bag hoping Akechi won't forget him (but it's impossible for that to happen, Akira should feel more at ease). But it'll take a while yet for things to happen. Now that he's in Tokyo again, things are going to happen that aren't cute and healing. Derp.  
> Thank you very much for your kudos and comments again. I really appreciate the support. It makes writing feel less lonely, haha. I'll edit it to get rid of grammar stuff during the week, apologies if there were rough bits. Time was a bit short this week.  
> Otherwise, see you next week!


	10. Chapter 10

"Shido-sama is waiting for you in his study," the maid from before greets him again when he reaches Shido's fancy high rise at nine-thirty in the evening. She's wearing a maid uniform even scantier than before. Akechi politely averts his eyes as he steps inside, taking off his shoes and walking straight through towards the office.

Today had been a strange day on his patience. School had been the same recurring track – he needed to give a presentation on the state of Japan's economy during the 80s. By the teacher's pleased smile he wasn't worried about his marks. After school, he headed straight for the Police Headquarters. Atsuzawa kept his promise, greeting him after Maika, the receptionist, had rung him up and introduced him to Naho with the buzzing energy of a caffeine overdose.

"Tell me if you need anything," Naho Mitarai had said warmly, "I'll try my best to support you. God knows that _some people who forget to take care of themselves_ need help with taking care of others, hmm?"

"Oi," Atsuzawa scowled standing to the side hunched over with his hands in his pockets, looking more like a thug than a detective. "I can totally look after my intern."

"Oh really?"

Akechi had stood to the side as he let the two play out their act, smiling all the while until there was a pause to interject. He bowed. "I'm glad to meet you, Mitarai-san."

Naho had beamed behind her thick glasses before waving the two down to their office. There, Akechi had joined Atsuzawa in matching rental dates with Hideki Shibata's deliveries. So far, despite the various companies that used the rental warehouses, no trends were popping up.

"My eyes, they burn," Atsuzawa was groaning as he crossed out another month of records, reading lights switched on despite the daylight. "You hanging in there okay?"

"I'm good, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replied, before letting himself slip back into silence to let Atsuzawa's ramble continue. He liked mumbling to himself, but also sometimes to Akechi, and he learned that Atsuzawa hated pickles, and had two dogs in his apartment. One was called Momo, and the other was called Pochi, and he doesn't know if he regrets letting his niece name them or not.

Other tiny details passed by as Akechi crossed out line after line until eight-thirty, where Atsuzawa clapped him on the back.

"Good going, Akechi. We got through more than I thought we would. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replied, and he packed up quietly. He leaves the man under his little puddle of light, scratching his head trying to find the link that _'I know is there, call it a hunch'._

After a light dinner, he now stands in front of Shido's large desk. Shido is sitting down, one leg rested on the other as he peers through his dark glasses at him.

"Akechi," he greets. "I've heard you got an internship under an SIU?"

"Yes, Shido-san," Akechi replies. "Under Atsuzawa-san in the Special Investigation's Unit for Organised Crime."

Shido laughs harshly. "What irony, that his newest intern is an agent under the very person he'd like to catch the most. Tell me. What are you doing?"

Akechi reports, scarce on details but with enough fluff to seem substantial, highlighting they're going nowhere currently.

"You understand," Shido says after he's finished, "that your new obligations should not take precedence over our own cooperation… yes?"

"Of course, Shido-san. Only a fool wouldn't take the Metaverse and its potentials seriously," Akechi states. The bait is there in his reply. A question. Why did Shido call him here today?

"Yes. And we aren't fools now, are we?" Shido asks, leaning forward.

Akechi shakes his head. "Of course not, Shido-san."

"I've been generous, Akechi," Shido says, his voice low and smooth, pitched as if he was on television playing the role of a determined, charismatic leader to his one-man audience. "But as you know, things given freely can also be easily taken away." He taps a finger against his desk, sharp raps that intentionally jar the atmosphere, forcing Akechi's undivided attention. "Although our contract says that I only expected you to cooperate with experiments, I would've thought it also implied that you produce actionable results. Don't you agree?"

"…Of course I do, Shido-san."

"Now that we're two months in, it's really not too much of a stretch to expect that you know how to find a particular individual's Shadow by the end of the week."

Shido's smile is the one he used when he was in front of his party right before the election. By then, Akechi had gone through his rounds and collected dirt on every single one of them. He had turned even the most half-hearted into fervid supporters of Shido's cause. Shadows don't lie, after all. Any suspicion on Shido's part would be easily detected by a simple visit from Akechi and a question.

_"Are you unhappy with Shido?"_

In his smile is his underlying threat to take away everything that he has ever provided him.

And Akechi can only wish to say he does not care about the warm rose pink of his dorm room when he steps in at the end of the day, the small cactus on his windowsill that snags now and then on his curtains. His tentative start at a book collection. The cheerful faces of Saito-san and the benign dorm-mates that are beginning to become familiar in the morning instead of hasty retreats out of a foster home, the independence of not needing to worry about being held back because one of his parents didn't feel like providing a signature.

The thought of going back to his orphan Institute filled with desperate, lonely children who didn't know how to function outside the rules set for them is _suffocating_.

But he can't let the yawning emptiness of that thought show.

Because if he did, he knows. Shido will sink his teeth into it and never let go. Every single task would be prefaced with the same threat, to take away the things he is learning to like. He had predicted this – it has all happened before, after all.

So this is all he does.

"I'll try my best, Shido-san. In the event that I fail, should I return the credit card until I succeed?"

Akechi tilts his head, friendly. His smile is natural, even if his eyes are just as cold as his father's.

 _I do not care_ , he lies.

Shido blinks slowly.

"That's what we will do then," Shido says, and Akechi does not do anything except nod agreeably. "Send me word of your success by Friday and we'll proceed with our cooperation."

It's with a warm tone that he continues.

"Don't you agree, Akechi," Shido says, his smile deceptively gentle as he rested his chin on his steepled hands. "That agreements are only useful when you have the power to enforce them?"

Akechi's smile is just as warm.

"Yes, Shido-san," he replies. "I agree."

He leaves after a few more banal exchanges. They both keep watching, keep holding their cards close to their chest, and Akechi leaves with his head held high, his polite smile intact. He calmly collects his coat from the maid and does not try to heave in breaths until he's two streets down.

He returns to his dorm and stops right at the doorway when he opens it.

His curtains are closed, the tiny cactus on the windowsill a splotch of green against the yellow fabric. A desk filled with homework and books, and a bed with the blankets he had bought only last week, folded neatly in the morning.

Tentatively, home.

He hangs his jacket carefully, placing his shoes neatly side by side as he steps into his apartment. The air is slightly stale from a whole day being shut, but the smell isn't unpleasant – it's the scent of dried clothes and the slight plastic smell of textbooks, and Akechi breathes this in.

He falls asleep, plans already in place.  


* * *

  
He does nothing special the next day now that he's sure that Shido has sent someone to monitor him. He smiles through school, offers homework help to the most visible members in class who need it, before heading off to his internship. They do the same thing as yesterday, only now they've moved on to employee lists, and the both of them sort through pages of lists munching on some cookies that Naho baked.

"Thank you," Akechi said when she offered, and Naho's happy smile abruptly stopped when Atsuzawa grumbled, 'Food? You worry too much, Naho.'

Naho had whacked the man on the back of his head and moved all her cookies to Akechi's table in retaliation. Akechi gladly hogged them for a while - the cookies were a little burnt on the sides and a bit chewy in the centre, but they weren't overly sweet. It made the few hours in the office even more pleasant as he unwinded with the monotonous work. It's sooner than he would like when its eight-thirty again, and Atsuzawa is clapping him on his back.

"Thanks for your hard work, kid. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course, Atsuzawa-san."

This time he meets Wakaba in the same place in the Metaverse.

The woman has a smile a mile wide. "Brat, you're late!" She says in lieu of a greeting, and Akechi tries hard not to roll his eyes.

"Ishikki-san. If you take a glance down at your watch, you'll find that you're the one that's early," Akechi replies pleasantly. She does, squinting down at it before obviously dismissing the whole issue.

"Bah, whatever. Let's go!"

Wakaba is still in her lab-coat, her backpack just as large as last time. This time she's the one who leads, having typed a name into her own app.

To his surprise, Wakaba leads him down deeper than expected. Robin Hood slays every Shadow they meet easily, Wakaba still ever wide-eyed seeing the admittedly flashy attacks of a Persona. She doesn't ask this time, averting her eyes as she talks about other things.

"So my daughter tried cooking for me today," Wakaba chatters as they continue onwards on foot, "but she forgot about the stove to finish a level on her game and she burnt the water! I love her, but that girl, honestly!" Akechi tucks the strand of information that Futaba Ishikki is an inept cook in his mind as they wander deeper into the tunnels. Wakaba's headlight lights up the gloom in front of them as they traverse through the eerie silence of the Metaverse together. Sometimes there's the sound of something dripping down the walls, but whenever Wakaba turns to try and find the source to collect it, the walls are always dry.

"Perhaps it's just the shared cognition that tunnels are leaky, Ishikki-san," Akechi states, and Wakaba wrinkles her face.

"That's such an unsatisfying answer," Wakaba complains and stops examining the corner she had been anticipating holding water the most. "Imagine what I could do if I could collect some Metaverse water! Whether it comes from the sewage of humanity's consciousness or not, there are so many things I can try out with it!"

Akechi's already wrinkled his nose slightly at the mention of Mementos as the 'sewage of humanity's consciousness'. She's not technically wrong, per se, but it does make Mementos diving much less like the clandestine superpowered double-life he had, somewhere in his heart, always seen it as.

"What things would you try?" Akechi asks as Wakaba takes point again.

"Even if I couldn't take it out to the real world with me, I could always try other stuff inside the Metaverse itself, right? Like, dissolving things in it, distilling it, making it something perhaps we could drink…"

There's a speculative glint in her eye when she says that, looking at Akechi, and he's suddenly very glad Metaverse Water is not something that exists in Mementos. In Palaces he's seen quite a few – fountains next to vaulting churches, rivers in deep subterraneous caves, moats next to fairy-tale castles. All of those held water that he'd never been interested in drinking from.

…Despite himself, he feels a little curious.

 **That is not a good idea** , Morrigan says with amusement, and Akechi ditches the thought immediately. He isn't one to not listen to his Personas, who had only ever been loyal to him.

"What a shame," Wakaba is sighing now as they near the cracked walls of the Shadow Wakaba was leading them to. "Humanity's consciousness is so dark and gloomy. You'd think at least someone would imagine their shadowy self as an angel in the clouds or something. I have this narcissistic colleague who definitely thinks of herself like that…"

She leads them in, and Akechi blinks in surprise

"Ishikki-san," he says, bewildered. "Isn't that your Shadow?"

"Correct!"

"Was Kei Tanaka not enough for experimentation?" Akechi asks with a tinge of real concern, and Wakaba snorts.

"That molester? No, he's fine. I'm still doing a lot with him, that's not the point. There was something fascinating that I just needed to measure out myself!"

Wakaba's Shadow stands in the middle of the room, muttering as Shadows usually do. As Akechi draws nearer, he can hear a string of formulas and equations that come endlessly out of her mouth, and Akechi blinks.

"Oh yeah," Wakaba says with no concern at all that she's revealing what's probably her deepest concerns to Akechi, someone she's repeatedly stated was 'like a snake'. "That's the latest formula I created for a client to deepen cogitation and meditation. It's not something I'm very confident with, so I guess my subconscious is picking it up?"

She puts down her hefty bag and takes out a bunch of food.

"Check it out, Akechi!"

And she proceeds to stuff the whole bar of chocolate into her Shadows mouth. The Shadow is surprised for all of two seconds before chewing it down, swallowing, and returning straight back to muttering her equations. Wakaba stands in front of Akechi after that, looking supremely proud of herself.

"Shadows can eat! And not only that, _real food_. And not only _that_ , look!"

Wakaba pulls out a chart and points to the list.

"So I'm tracking my blood sugar levels right – apart from what I normally eat, I fed a bunch of chocolate and sweets to my Shadow, and my real life blood sugar index has shot straight up!"

"…I hate to burst your bubble, Ishikki-san, but that doesn't particularly sound like a good thing," Akechi replies after he's scanned the chart. The high figure doesnt look very healthy. "Doesn't your family have a history of diabetes?"

"How the heck do you know— Oh whatever, keep being creepy. Yeah, I'll stop soon, but this is fascinating! I haven't fed myself any sweets at all this past week, and my blood sugar is so high. I've calculated, it's not as high as it would be if I ate it myself, but there's definitely an effect."

Wakaba laughs. "This has proved direct transference, Akechi! Do you know what this means?"

Akechi's mind turns.

"You don't have to invent a whole new way to make Shadows fall into a coma," he replies. "Just something more potent than usual."

"Yup!" Wakaba beams, her not caring about her lab-coat as she flops onto the floor to continue tinkering around. "I knew you were a smart boy. Chocolate?"

"No, thank you," Akechi replies, and Wakaba eats it herself.

"So yup, anaesthetics aren't my forte so I'll need to look it up, and I'll see if there are any Metaverse-specific things I can use to make it so that the sleep can continue without a constant hook-up to drugs. Because that's probably not what you want, right?"

There are monitoring instruments for comatose patients, induced or not, for a reason, and Akechi nods.

"Yes, I can't guarantee that I can be around to constantly monitor their health, but I don't want to risk death. I was hoping, since Shadows are so intertwined with our actual selves, if we can shut down the Shadows, then the actual person would fall to sleep until the Shadow wakes up. Make the Shadow the cause, so nothing done to the person in the Real World can effectively cure it."

Only then, perhaps, can this strategy be guaranteed as insurance.

Wakaba is looking at him with unblinking eyes, a look so familiar that Akechi has to momentarily settle himself that the darkness around them does not hold the million blinking lights of a universe. They are not breathing the cold air of death. Her eyes are brown, not blue.

"You're providing a lot more detail this time, secretive boy," Wakaba goes back to what she's doing with a nonchalance that's only slightly faked. "You should be glad I don't believe you're a bad guy, or I would be seriously doubting your motives."

"You probably shouldn't trust me so easily, Ishikki-san," Akechi says, leaning again on the wall, and Wakaba shrugs.

"When did I say I trusted you?"

There's a silence then, for the next few hours, as Wakaba's mutters join her Shadow's as she continues her experimentation. Akechi does the same as last time – clearing out the Shadows in the area before settling himself back inside as he reviews homework. There's a social studies assignment he can't finish yet, but the rest he finds he can start finishing on his phone.

It's when Wakaba is dusting her hands off as she hauls her backpack up again that Wakaba's Shadow pauses her muttering, facing the two with her blazing yellow eyes and black smoking skin. Akechi is ready to go, fully intending to lead them out when the Shadow's voice rings out.

"I wonder," the Shadow says, for the first time, staring straight at Wakaba. "I wonder if I'm a good mother?"

Wakaba stills.

"I wonder if Futaba feels lonely when I forget to cook her dinner," the Shadow continues. "We get takeout, but she's always said she likes my cooking."

Akechi glances next to him. Wakaba is looking down, face blank.

"I wonder if Sojiro will ever stop waiting for an indecisive woman like me. Good for science and nothing else, as mama always said. Never understood humans enough. You're a single mother for a reason, aren't you? Who knows if their smiles are real or not by now—"

"Okay, that's enough!" Wakaba yells, pushing Akechi out the room and marching them down the corridors towards the station exit. The Shadow's words fade to silence. "Pretend you never heard that, okay?" She asks, and Akechi isn't inconsiderate enough to push such sensitive matters.

"Message me when you have any more breakthroughs, or if you need to delve deeper into Mementos, Ishikki-san," he says instead to divert the conversation.

"Alright, Akechi. Good night," Wakaba says with fake cheer before quickly exiting the Metaverse.

Indeed, Akechi had never given much thought about Wakaba's status as a single mother. It didn't seem like it had mattered to her, as she looks the type that had gotten over society's stigma. She lives a life where she demonstrates she's proud of her independence, where other's judgements do not touch her.

Ah, Akechi thinks as he's wandering the streets back home, but it's never that easy now, is it?

His own experiences flash through his mind, and Akechi twists the bitterness out of his smile when he buys his dinner at the convenience store.

Masks up, until he's identified whoever Shido has hired to monitor him.  


* * *

  
The week passes – he exchanges insights with Wakaba whenever needed, and when Friday comes he counts the money he's saved up and sends the message.

_Apologies, Shido-san. I couldn't find a way to find an individual's Shadow yet. I will send updates the moment I do so._

He tries Shido's card on Saturday. It's frozen, as he expected.

Akechi comes out of the ATM glad that he's already paid his rent for the next three months upfront. He won't drag this out for too long – he has food that's good until mid-July, so he'll probably message that he found the way around then.

That's a week and a half away. He'll plan his performance well.

As the next week turns over, he makes it obvious the dorm room is empty more and more often by opening his curtains a crack with the lights off. He does delve into Mementos more to work with Morrigan, but he's determined to make this act not one of desperation.

He is not desperate, and he is not falling apart. It's just another mission that's taking an unexpectedly long time, and Goro Akechi's public persona is taking that with a resigned grace. He's working harder despite his obligations with school and his internship, but ultimately this is so he can continue living comfortably. He doesn't want to lose it, but it's not something Goro Akechi will lose his head over in panic at the prospect of losing.

This Akechi is confident he can just win it back again after proving himself.

Shido takes this report with a contemplative frown, turning the paper over and over in his hands.

It seems that taking away his material benefits is an effective threat, but not the one he could use rope Akechi to his side permanently. He crossed out utilising greed as an effective strategy. A shame – this would've been the easy path.

Revenge and affection it is, then. His original plan.

"Ai-chan, come in," he says, and the maid he's been favouring for the past few months enters.

"What do you need, Shido-sama?" She says sweetly, and Shido finds himself appreciating her curves. Younger girls were definitely more tender.

"I have a private business meeting soon," he says, curling his finger for her to approach closer. He lets her sit on his lap, and he strokes her thigh. He rests them there, letting his cold fingers warm from her bare skin. This girl always had smooth skin, hairless from his request. "Do you want to come with me as my partner? I'll give the usual bonus."

"I would be honoured, Shido-sama!" The maid smiles and flatters. "Thank you so much!"

He smiles down at her, follows the bow of her sweet smile, the curve of her cheek.

What a shame.  


* * *

  
It's the middle of July when Akechi finally stops acting.

_I've found a way to find specific Shadows, Shido-san._

**Good** , the reply comes a little later in the afternoon. **You'll find that I'm not an unreasonable man, Akechi. Open the attachment and do what it says. If you do this well, you'll find that you'll receive a suitable reward.**

Inside is the name of the SIU Director and a list of questions.

Akechi sighs. the Director had been his very first interrogation the first time too, Shido keen to drag him to his side. It seems that no matter how hard he tried, he's only delayed the progression of Shido's Metaverse plans for a few weeks at most.

That night he returns with a plastic container filled with muffins that Naho had insisted he bring back home. He places it carefully in his small fridge before changing into something more comfortable than his uniform.

The SIU Director doesn't have a Palace yet, and his Shadow doesn't live too far down into Mementos – at least, not deep enough that he's barred access because he isn't recognised enough. He's just in a much larger room than normal, and the Shadow himself isn't much of a fight against Morrigan's curses. He's melted out of his fighting spirit back to being a normal Shadow soon enough, and the sight of the old man cowering in front of him didn't bring Akechi the satisfaction it did last time.

"W-what do you want?" the SIU Director gibbers. "You're not here because I'm rigging the trials, right? Public opinion is higher than ever – Japan loves having a justice system that will indict the evil of society! I'm not doing anything wrong! My records state that!"

Akechi scoffs. "And your records are rigged. You can share more about that later."

The logic of humans, sometimes. He always thinks someone is intelligent until he faces their Shadow, and the self-denying circular logic so many have plummets his estimations to the bottom level.

"I just need you to answer these questions, Director," Akechi smiles, his laser sword to the Shadow's neck. There's a sizzle, and the Director winces back in pain. "I assume you don't need to know what will happen if you refuse to answer."

The act of threatening Shadows fits as comfortably as an old glove, a familiar shift that makes him wish for the protection of Loki's helmet, the convenience of his quiet boots to prowl around a victim in darkness. Instead, Morrigan's spiked sabatons click against the flooring, the sharp metal gleaming with a slight red as he walks around the SIU Director, laser sword lazily circling around his neck. As his mindset sinks deeper, dusts out this rusted role, Robin Hood sends over a soft chirrup of sadness. Morrigan chides him.

**This is strategy, you fool.**

Indeed, it is. The better Akechi is at this the more, perhaps, his later negotiations will succeed.

"I'm curious, Director. How did you even get chosen to take this position in the first place, hmm?" Akechi starts, voice purposefully gentle. He's learnt quickly that people are more quickly disturbed by violence held by a calm face. Anger and bluster only breed gibbering fear, wasting time, while kindness is a force spat upon in the Metaverse. His persona is one of an iron hand in a silk glove, a person who could stab a person while never breaking his manners. He presents a man not afraid to use violence, who also hasn't let go of calm logic.

Who knows? If you answer his questions, perhaps he'll be pleased enough to spare your life.

The Director swallows when Akechi forces him to meet his eyes, before starting his stuttering answer.

This goes on long into the night.  


* * *

  
Shido's reward is, for now, a substantial cheque. Akechi isn't one to not take advantage of what is freely given. At the soonest opportunity, he cashes it in and stashes it securely.

There's a break from Shido then, as nothing new comes from him except their past agreement. Shido sends him assignments to do and he does them. Sometimes it's new interrogations, and sometimes it's just another perspective on how to use the Metaverse.

It's a calm that Akechi didn't expect.

But there's not much he could do regarding Shido, so he tries his best to leave the suspicions in his heart as he greets the new day.

It's late July, and with Shido retracting his focus, he lets himself relax a little. He tends to school and keeps up his benign, nice image. Atsuzawa had been sent to investigate something in Hokkaido and was staying there for the time being, leading Akechi to report to Naho every day he's absent. She's a kindly supervisor who teaches Akechi the more day-to-day skills of police work, and Akechi finds his time filled with miscellaneous things.

He lets himself remember them, these small, tiny things. He hears a café play one of Minato's CDs as background noise near Headquarters so now he goes there for coffee refills, bobbing his head to the gentle jazz that curls around the comfortable corners of the café as he waits for his order. A classmate he's been casually tutoring shares a book that's a surprisingly good read. When he passes the florist in Shibuya, he's reminded of Akira's flowery-coffee scent after a shift at work.

He sometimes wonders how Akira is, a long train ride away.

Perhaps he relaxed too much, as it comes as a shock one weekend to realise that he's nearly late in handing in one of his assignments.

It's for Social Studies class, and the only reason why he hadn't been able to finish it two weeks ago was that it required him to interview someone about their attitudes towards Japanese society.

He had been meaning to interview someone in his department – Atsuzawa, maybe, if he could pin him down for more than ten minutes that didn't disturb a nap or intense case reading. Or Naho if she ever stopped tapping away at her phone. But it kept slipping his mind when he stepped into office.

Wandering down the steps with a vague plan in mind to find an old shopkeeper or two to ask for an interview, he's pleasantly surprised when he sees Saito locking up her office ready to leave.

Saito had never been anything but pleasant to Akechi, and she's a good a candidate as any.

"Saito-san!" He calls, and the old lady turns around with a smile.

"Oh, Akechi-kun. I hope everything is okay? Some boys up the floors were complaining about a plumbing problem."

"No, everything is fine, Saito-san," Akechi replies pleasantly. "I was just wondering if you were free for a brief interview, no more than a few minutes. It's for an assignment," he adds, and Saito laughs.

"Well, you are quite a bit more busy than many of our lodgers here. I just locked up my office, would you mind if we just sat outside?"

"Thank you for your kindness," Akechi says as they settle on the colourful seats in the lounge. Both Saito and himself sit straight out of politeness, and Akechi doesn't delay any further.

"This assignment is for a social studies class, and our goal is to ask a member of our community about what they think about the current state of our society. Saito-san, what do you think about our society right now?"

"That's quite a heavy question," Saito laughs, and Akechi joins her with a light chuckle.

"Indeed. My apologies for ambushing you with such a question when you were all ready to head out for home."

"It's fine, Akechi-kun. Let me arrange my thoughts a little. Society is such a big issue, and there are so many things inside that. Can you specify a little for me?" Saito gently queries.

"Then, how about your view of our culture?"

"Culture? You might find my opinions a little strange though…"

Akechi smiles. "It's fine, Saito-san. I value any opinions, and strange ones will only make it easier to write for."

"Alright then, Akechi-kun. Hmm…" They're both sitting with the glass doors of the entrance to their left, leaving the other side of their face in stark, dramatic profile. Saito is thinking deeply, and her small hands twisting into her sleeves.

"I think," she starts, "that the older I get, the more I realise just how many masks we put up to live."

Masks? Akechi can't help but pay a little more attention.

"It is our culture of _amae_ that makes us hide so easily behind our masks," Saito says as she settles into the hunch of her back, staring out across the small foyer. "We value considering others over ourselves in society, to feel that to be accepted we have to guess the feelings of others in all our daily interactions and accommodate."

"Many of my friends often say the younger generation is selfish," she continues, eyes contemplative. "They see that many of our younger ones are obsessed with themselves, but I sometimes wonder if it isn't we who are selfish, who want to push our views and values on them who need to live and adapt to a world that's so different from our own."

She stops there, gathering her thoughts. "A different world?" Akechi prompts, and Saito nods.

"Yes, a different world. The matters I learnt and the matters you youngsters learn are so different now. I used to collect paraffin oil for our stove every Saturday with two cans in hand, singing a song down the countryside with my sister. Now that's all automatic, isn't it? What the young need to learn isn't where to find the cheapest oil, it's how to send online bills. It's…" Saito trails off, drooping a little.

"Maybe we are all just relics of the past," Saito says gently, waspish voice somewhat drowned by the loud chatter of a group of students entering the dorm and heading straight towards the elevator. Akechi tries to see what she sees, tracking her gaze across the floor. Youthful, vibrant energy – perhaps similar to her past, but different too, in their accessories, their slang, the way they walk and dress. Different values to a different world.

"That's perhaps how I see culture. It moves forward without needing the personal stories of those it feeds off. Perhaps all we need to see are trends that we fit ourselves next to so we don't feel lonely, not knowing that the nation won't care when you unstick yourself from a thing so much greater than yourself…"

Saito catches herself then, and she laughs with a little bit of embarrassment. "Oh dear, it seems like I slipped a few my own troubles alongside my answer. I apologise."

"It's fine, Saito-san," Akechi says, stopping the recording. "Although I don't wish to make light of your personal struggles, your answer is perfect for my assignment. Thank you very much for your time." Akechi bows.

Saito laughs. There's a bit of wistfulness in her eyes. "No, it was my pleasure to help. Good night, Akechi-kun."

A week later, the teacher smiles at him.

"A great insightful essay about the changing of the times and self-isolation, Akechi-kun. Good work."

"Thank you, sensei."

And the class moves on to environmental studies, and Akechi rereads his own assignment, wry twist to his lips before moving on himself.

This state of affairs lasts until the end of July.

Quiet. Too quiet.

Akechi lives his own life – greeting Saito and various peers as he leaves in the morning, working hard for Atsuzawa after school, and delving into the Metaverse to get blackmail on high-profile victims for Shido. One by one, Shido leashes public figures to his side to prepare for his Prime Ministerial campaign, Akechi quietly keeping all the information he finds in his own, private folder.

August dawns with the quiet before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The current state of affairs:  
> Fool Rank 1 (Akira)  
> Justice Rank 1 (Atsuzawa)  
> Devil Rank 1 (Shido)  
> Fortune Rank 3 (Wakaba)  
> Universe Rank 10 (Minato)
> 
> Otherwise, thanks for your kudos and support. Your comments help brighten my day :D Isn't it kinda nuts we reached 400+ kudos ahaha. I didn't expect so many people to be invested cos things are kinda slow but thank you very much, guys. ^^  
> See you next week!  
> There's so much news of Royal coming out with Akechi's proper social link! More broship looked through the lens of a shipper, yay.  
> (futaba is coming in soon, i'm excited)


	11. Chapter 11

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It's a memory, Akechi knows. He's lying down on one of Gekkoukan's seats, the white curve of it perfect for him to lay back and dangle his feet over the edge. He knows Minato is doing the same on the opposite bench, feet swinging. In this infinite parabola of stars, the only sound is silence and Minato's voice echoing in his mind.

 _It's strange to think that I can see so many more sides of my friends that I haven't lived,_ Minato was saying. _Now that I am here, I see many more worlds that could have been that I am not particularly disturbed about. Akihiko makes a surprisingly sweet boyfriend. Mitsuru is as supportive as I expected towards a girl-version of myself as a leader. A Yukari that doesn't have a crush on me is a great time._

It's a strange topic, admittedly. Akechi imagines himself as a girl and only feels glad he isn't.

It's not that he is afraid of being a woman.

It's just that his clawing escape from his circumstances would have been infinitely harder. Akechi knows himself enough that it's in his very core to feel proud, to never stop reaching for something more. Watching doors close in Shido's traditional circles merely because of his gender would've _crushed_ him into someone even more unrecognizably bitter than what he had become.

Besides, imagining himself being Shido's daughter is a horrifying prospect. He takes after his mother, an objectively beautiful woman. Knowing the low scruples Shido has, he's not one to enjoy testing the devil.

 _What I think of most is Shinjiro however,_ Minato continues. _In all the versions that I am a male, he dies. But if I made the effort as a female, I could save him. Although it's just a month, although it is very hard… There are worlds where Shinjiro is saved._

Shinjiro Aragaki was one of the names that Minato had mentioned with regret. A figure that sacrificed his life for a child whose mother he accidentally killed.

_He would've been my Moon Arcana, deeply insecure, so scared of himself. If I reached out and maxed out his arcana, then he would merely go to hospital and recover, rather than dying to save Ken._

"Are these arcanas so important?" Akechi asks, voice swallowed by the darkness.

_Yes. The longer I stay, the longer I realise,_ Minato sighs. _The arcana and the links you make to those who represent them – they are a miracle, as Igor says. A force that shifts fate itself._

However, instead of the inquisitive quip that Akechi remembers himself asking about Arcanas, suddenly, time freezes. His breath is caught in his chest.

Under his very eyes, the universe is a little darker and the stars that were only tiny pinpricks of light are starker, stronger. They seem to be reaching out to him, struggling, and the space lights up in a golden glow. Akechi looks over, head no longer encased in Loki's helmet, the bullet hole in his chest closed. He wears his neatly pressed uniform in front of Minato's slightly dishevelled one. Minato's form is glowing, and his eyes hold a rare alertness when his gaze meets Akechi's.

It is an abrupt realisation.

This is not a memory.

_Goro_

_Goro, you're running out of time._

Minato's voice is strong in his mind, and his presence seems to swallow the air itself. But the moment Akechi moves, tries to reach a hand out to his friend, the whole illusion starts cracking at the edges. Minato's previously clear form blurs, the golden glow transforms into the shape of a door. There's a roar of something in the distance with the sound of clattering chains, and when Minato hears it he immediately fades, closing his eyes. The golden glow stops. The universe stops.

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A void yawns, an emptiness that Akechi had never forgotten as he fell that time, fell into the dark abyss from a bullet hole wound that burnt his lungs like penance.

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And Akechi wakes up.  


* * *

  
That morning at school, Akechi finds himself staring at the torrential rain as he half-listens to the geography teacher. The drumming of raindrops on the roof is a loud backdrop to the comparatively soft voice of the teacher, and it provided a sense of isolation as he stared over the grey shadows of a rain-soaked Tokyo.

That dream.

No, he shouldn't kid himself. It wasn't a dream. It was a warning.

Akechi settles his head in his palm as his eyes tracked a roving black cloud. It moved slowly south, pouring its load over skyscrapers that touched its belly.

These past few months he has gathered information, a file for Shido and all his conspirators, picking at the edges of Shido's spiderweb of a network. He now has a decent folio of names and their potential roles that he can start building concrete evidence for.

This is all for his ultimate goal – using his second chance in a less foolish way to take down Shido, who is undoubtedly an important piece for the ultimate mastermind. All he has to do is avoid being embroiled in Shido's schemes until Akira arrives in his second year of high school. When Akira arrives, he can ingratiate himself into the Phantom Thieves, use his information to not just take down Shido but his whole conspiracy along with him. Then when the mastermind appears to save the situation, all he has to do is monitor Akira so he doesn't succumb to whatever appears, and then they can kill whoever it is together.

It's a simple plan discounting minutiae, and it's holding on well so far. That's probably not Minato is referring to.

_Arcanas have the power to alter fate._

A miracle.

Akira, Atsuzawa and Wakaba – all three of his new Arcanas were in some way unexpected. Perhaps in some way, a miracle.

Barring Akira, who is still living a normal life, both Atsuzawa and Wakaba were welcome, but unexpected factors to his plans.

Atsuzawa had his political family, his position as the head of the SIU for Organised Crime, and his many personal achievements. Wakaba, with her ties with several interested metanormal-aware 'bigwigs' and her status as a leading researcher in cognitive pscience. Both have immense potential to challenge his status quo, and both were part of the few that Shido was wary of.

However, both Atsuzawa and Wakaba have latent problems.

Atsuzawa became an emotionally withdrawn investigator that rarely took large cases by the time that Akechi had become the Detective Prince, to the point that Akechi never even met him. From rumours, the cause could be a combination of a fatal accident and survivor's guilt.

Wakaba was self-explanatory. Akechi had killed her himself when Shido had deemed allowing her to further her research would hinder his future plans, one step faster than Wakaba's efforts to find evidence of Shido's crimes.

A flash of lightning. Thunder rolls in a few seconds later, startling the rest of the class. Akechi starts pretending to write his notes when the teacher turns around and examines the classroom. He finds himself doodling a small crow in the margins, beak opened comically wide as he continues to think.

Minato sent that specific memory for a reason. Shinjiro Aragaki died in all scenarios except in very specific conditions. Minato had to be female for the Arcana to initiate, had to reach out fervently enough to get his Arcana up to Rank 10 in the time limit of one month. In all other scenarios without exception, Shinjiro Aragaki is dead as fate intended.

Since Atsuzawa's case was currently going nowhere substantial and no large roundups were going to happen any time soon, Akechi focused on the one logical option.

He has not been working hard enough to secure Wakaba Ishikki's fate.

Akechi hums lowly under his breath as he slowly detailed the fletching on the crow's wings.

It's not inaccurate. He first made contact with her so that she could research for him, nothing more, nothing less. Even afterwards, he'd assumed that if he out-manoeuvred Shido, Wakaba would be in less danger anyway. If the murderer didn't take action, wouldn't the risk be drastically lessened?

Minato obviously disagrees.

And now that Akechi thinks about it, it wasn't as if there weren't other hitmen out there. If Akechi fails to kill Wakaba, Shido doubtlessly has other people on call to finish the job.

_A sweaty gun, resigned, blazing eyes, a woman's last smile—_

_"I'm sorry… Futaba."_

_How nice, Akechi had thought as he disassembled his gun that night, that some mothers died thinking of their children._

Time to contact Wakaba again.

  


* * *

  


[MadPscientist: ?]

[GA: Greetings to you too, Pscientist-san. I was wondering what times you are available this coming week?]

[MadPscientist: this is weirdly sudden. usually its me contacting you aint it? whats up have you gotten replaced by an alien]

Akechi blinks at the odd reply and sighs.

[GA: No, it's just that my schedule has recently cleared up and I can uphold my side of the bargain with more regularity now.]

[MadPscientist: well you know me, always up for some metaverse diving. im generally good around tuesdays and fridays. how about you?]

[GA: 8:30 PM both days for the next month?]

[MadPscientist: wow i wasn't expecting that is it my birthday? i can go in all those weird corners i didn't dare go before! yes pls]

[GA: See you on the 5th of August then, Pscientist-san.]

For some inane reason, Wakaba responds with a line of thumbs-ups in a variety of colours, and Akechi just puts down the phone to focus back on a line of thought that he's been tracing back since last week. Naho is at the next desk on the phone talking to a team member he hasn't met yet in her own small yellow puddle of light, and Akechi knows he's on the verge of something here. There's a niggling memory, a newspaper article he read that he briefly noted before moving on.

What was it?

He looks at the flowchart that marked Shion Gen to Hideki Shibata, and then to the dozens and dozens of names that spring from that and frowns in deep thought.

  


* * *

  


Tuesday comes and Akechi doesn't waste time. He begs off a little early and Naho waves it off with good cheer.

"You're still in school, Akechi. You have highschool exams to prepare for, right? Good luck with your studies!" She encourages. Akechi's only glad that he studied so hard to upkeep Shogaku's high school scholarship the first time, as he still remembers most of his exam prep even now. It might be a different story once he enters second or third year, but his current studies are simple enough.

He still smiles in reply to her kindness. "I'm sorry, Mitarai-san," Akechi apologises. "I'm already very confident that I can maintain my scholarship but this week's unit was harder than usual."

"You're a hard worker, Akechi. We're not here to work you to the bone, you have adulthood to do that yet. Go, I'll see you tomorrow anyway."

They share a short laugh before Akechi catches the train back to his dorm. He closes the curtains and switches on his table-lamp before entering the Metaverse and racing towards Shibuya's vet. He arrives just on time for Wakaba to shimmer into the Metaverse herself.

"Whoo, I just gave a kinda bullshit excuse to Sojiro to watch my daughter for the next few weeks but I think he's onto me. He totally gave me that squinty doubty eye that he sometimes does to Futaba when she's trying to fake sleep."

They don't really waste time on the surface level – they both immediately start picking towards the subway entrance as Akechi tries to catch his breath without being too obvious about it.

"It seems like you're good friends," is what he manages when his lungs feel like they belong in his chest again.

"I've been friends with Sojiro for years," Wakaba snorts. "Way too long. He's known me from the very first day of university all the way until now. Gosh, that's nearly twenty years. I feel _oooold_."

"Mid-thirties isn't that old, Ishikki-san," Akechi replies as he picks his way down the stairs and past the barriers, rolling his shoulders as he's fitted in Robin Hood's regalia. As he's adjusting his white gloves over his fingers, Wakaba gives him a narrow side-eye.

"I bet you say that to all the ladies, that came out way too easily."

Akechi doesn't deny it. "It's easy to initiate conversation when you appeal to someone's vanity. A small compliment serves to break the ice well, though that doesn't detract from my previous statement, Ishikki-san. Your mid-thirties is far from the end of your prime, especially in the era that we live in. You know more about the possibilities of medical technology than me, surely."

"Yeah, yeah," Wakaba says. "Coming from a literal teenager these assurances somehow don't sound very assuring."

They get disrupted by a battle with a Shadow, which he quickly shoots down with a few laser shots.

"Hey, isn't that a different gun from before?" Wakaba nears with curiosity. Usually, Akechi would take a step back and avoid the question. But in the spirit of increasing the Arcana's rank, he offers the gun to her instead.

"Try shooting it, it should still have three bullets," Akechi says, and Wakaba holds the toy gun with utmost seriousness, pointing it at the wall and pulling the trigger. A flash of yellow light later, there's a smoking mark on the wall. Wakaba's eyes are wide as she turns the gun over and over in her hands.

"I'm not a weapon guy, but I swear laser guns haven't even been invented yet. Wait, is that your true identity, mysterious boy? You're a secret teen spy for the government!"

"Hah," Akechi declines to reply since she's not technically wrong. Shido's part of the Cabinet and Akechi could be seen as his secret spy. "You're right that laser guns have not been invented yet, Ishikki-san."

"Then what is this miracle of science?" Wakaba waves his gun around, and Akechi gently chuckles even as his eyes track the gun seriously.

"A toy gun from an anime-goods shop in Akihabara."

Specifically, it was the limited special edition scaled real-life model of Featherman Black's Ray Gun from Season Five's climactic scene in Episode 52, where Black and Yellow have a tense confrontation over Pink's disappearance, distinguished by the silver embellishments on the barrel. Any true fan would have noticed what it was at once.

"Wait, this is a toy gun?" Wakaba looks at it incredulously, and Akechi takes back the gun before she starts waving it around again. It was strictly limited edition – if it broke, he didn't know when production would ever start again.

"Yes, Ishikki-san. I'll demonstrate for you again if you wish."

In the next few minutes, Akechi lures another Shadow closer, and in a stroke of luck, manages to kill it in one critical shot. Akechi smoothly holsters it back in his belt when he's done.

"Can I try shooting it again?" Asks Wakaba.

"If you treat it carefully," Akechi warns. "No matter if it's a toy in the real world, it can seriously harm us here."

Also, Wakaba had forgotten to cut her nails and it seemed dangerously close to scratching the paint job. That was neither here nor there, so Akechi stood to the side as Wakaba tried shooting the last bullet into the wall.

_Click. Click. Click._

"It's not working," Wakaba says with frustration, and Akechi laughs.

"That means you're doubting yourself." When Wakaba gives him a huge _explain yourself right now_ look, Akechi expands. "The cognitive world works on your cognitions, Ishikki-san. If you believe it strongly enough, many things come true."

Taking the gun back, he points the laser gun down the hallway and presses the trigger, and another bright light bursts out to dart down into the darkness, impacting something with a burning hiss.

Wakaba's busy scribbling in her log-book.

"I see, I see…" She's muttering to herself. "Akechi, I might need to postpone the rest of today's research for Friday. I need to prepare some stuff for this new revelation. You've let me understand more secrets of this cognitive meta-world!"

How convenient. He had been prepared to sacrifice some sleep, but now he doesn't have to.

"Alright, we'll meet again at the same time on Friday."

As Akechi is jogging lightly back to his dorm through crumbled, snarling streets, his lips curl into a satisfied smile when he reaches into the back of his mind.

**Fortune Rank 4 – Wakaba Ishikki**

  


* * *

  


"Wow, so this is a _Persona_ , you say?"

Wakaba has already clipped her hair back with a bunch of bobby-pins, and she adjusts her glasses with delight. There's an unfiltered wonder when she nears Robin Hood, who towers above her. He lets her approach, bending down to meet her eye. And when she sticks out her hand, presumably to touch him, Robin Hood misunderstands and brings one of his own large fists to hers, sticking out a finger for her to shake. They do a large arm shake for Wakaba and a small finger wag for Robin.

Wakaba shakes off a bit of that adult-tiredness that Akechi sees often in the streets, as office workers head to work with their shoulders bowed, eyebags heavy, scrolling on their phones. Instead, those lines on her face draw upwards as she hurls herself forward to hug Robin, who poofs into thin air because Akechi ran out of concentration.

Despite falling face-first into a crumbled road, all Wakaba does is roll onto her back and laugh.

"Do it again!" She demands, and since Akechi had made the resolution to demonstrate Personas today (something that will surely rank up the Arcana), he does.

Robin Hood rises up again, and he tilts his head side to side with an almost bird-like confusion when he sees no enemy to direct his bow at. Wakaba watches this with eyes that Akechi commonly see in children when they huddle around the newest toy display, and it's all well and good until she lunges at Robin with a syringe in her hand.

This time, it isn't Akechi that wrenches Robin Hood out of existence, and it's honestly a surprise for him that Personas had such control in the first place.

The Metaverse doesn't seem as sinister with Wakaba's happy laughter, Robin Hood sending over waves of panic and reluctance when Akechi reaches for his mask again.

Morrigan's laugh joins Wakaba's when Robin Hood materialises with less flair than usual, too gentle to cause Wakaba true harm, but also reluctant to let Wakaba do whatever she had planned with that syringe in her hand.

**Fortune Rank 5 – Wakaba Ishikki**

  


* * *

  


Another week over, another week's interrogations.

One late night, Akechi noticed that the information was slowly converging on the future opponents he will target. An old aristocrat, the head of a food chain company, a director of a multi-corp.

How much time does he have left?

Wakaba hangs back today, bottles of compounds in her pockets that she pulls in and out with a sense of controlled chaos. "So you hang around the Metaverse all day?" Wakaba asks casually, and Akechi accepts this conversation as a diversion.

"No, of course not, Ishikki-san. I have my own life to live. Please stand back." Akechi takes a sniping shot at a Shadow farther down the corridor, and when it lumbers closer to them he immediately ambushes it with an Eiga from Morrigan. By the time the transformed Shadow reaches them, it gives its last exhale and dies. Akechi sifts through the remains, picking up a pocketful of yen. "However, I do admit that the Metaverse is quite a calming place for me."

Wakaba gives him an incredulous look before taking a pointed glance around the subterranean tunnels they were in. The tunnels are dark, the footing under them is fractured. Seams of reality that seem to gape into some darker abyss crack the walls and the omnipresent red light keeps the shadows stark enough to keep the senses on edge.

Akechi takes in the same view pointedly with a smile.

"Yes, despite the atmosphere of the place, it's relaxing," Akechi reaffirms.

Perhaps back in the past, when he had first started delving into the Metaverse alone, it had been scary. To hear the strange drips that echoed off nothing, the winding tunnels that made no sense. When he was fifteen and Robin Hood was still weak, when every Shadow's attack was so much faster than he could handle. Both Loki and Robin Hood had been damage dealers, and he didn't even know heal spells existed until a Pixie used it on herself once.

Tetrakarn had been a blessing. It had stopped him from going to school with bruised ribs and hidden injuries that no teacher had looked twice at anyway.

Wakaba squints at all of this and nods to herself. "Well, if I was as strong as you and I was also a shady mofo who has too many secrets and seems to hate society, I think I'd like this place too. You can't get more removed than a parallel universe now, can you?"

Akechi has never been called a _shady mofo_ in all his lives and Wakaba seems to know it. Her face has a shit-eating grin on it, and Akechi replies, just as pleasantly, "And here I was thinking all adults paragons of maturity, Ishikki-san. Since you raise a teenage daughter yourself, don't you realise that all of us have fragile egos? You've hurt me irreparably. I," Akechi sighs, "might never recover."

"Haha!" Wakaba grins, juggling a variety of drugs and chemicals in her arms ready to get injected into a Shadow. "You'll survive, snake boy!"

**Fortune Rank 6 – Wakaba Ishikki**

  


* * *

  


"If you know the diabetic history of my family, I bet you already know the name of my daughter, stalker boy."

Akechi nods. Futaba Ishikki had definitely left an impression on him, especially considering her quick hands and her wizardry with technology. He would never let her touch his phone ever again. "Though I do know, I thought it would be impolite if I mentioned her without you first introducing her to me, Ishikki-san."

"Bah, _Ishikki-san, Ishikki-san, Ishikki-san_. Don't wear out my mother's name or she'll come back from the grave and nag at me to get married again. Call me Wakaba."

Akechi honestly feels surprised at the offer. He pauses from sentry duty to stare at her with a bit of curious calculation, tilting his head as he tries to fit in this offer with what he knew of her. He knew, of course, that Futaba Ishikki had called Sojiro Sakura just by his name. He had always thought that sort of liberal attitude had come because Sojiro was trying his best to make Futaba feel at home, instead of something she inherited from her mother.

"What?" Wakaba has all her hackles raised as she irritably continues on with her business. "Why are you looking at me like that? I gotta tell you, boy, you're way out of my hit-zone and you're not my type."

"You're not my type either, Ishikki-san. Prime of your life or not, you're too old," Akechi says even while Wakaba blatantly rolls her eyes and repeats, _'Wa-ka-ba. Are you deaf?'_ He continues on like he doesn't hear her. "And to answer your previous question, I'm merely surprised."

"About what?" Wakaba replies now, settling away from Kei Tanaka's Shadow as she takes a moment to give Akechi her full attention. "My name isn't weird."

"No, but not many adults I know would offer the use of their personal name to the younger generation, especially if they're used to authority like yourself, Ishikki-san."

"When have I ever sounded like an authority figure to you?" Wakaba asks incredulously. And… that is very true. Wakaba just gives him one of those smiles that he thinks if her face wasn't so mature would translate straight to _'snotty-brat'_ and shrugs. "Speaking of authority figures, you wanna know how I met Sojiro, Goro-boy?"

"Never call me Goro-boy ever again."

"Well, Goro-boy, I accidentally corrected a professor in his lecture, got yelled at for my troubles, and then I yelled back because it's not as if _I_ was wrong. And when I stood up because I lowkey wanted to punch the dude, the boy next to me stood up and put his cheek in the way of my fist! Then he apologised for getting in my way, pleaded to go to the nurse's office, dragged me with him, and we became friends!"

Akechi's still hung up over _Goro-boy_ , but he has to concede that the story was pretty unusual. And considering how long this friendship lasted, it was also quite heart-warming.

"Later, Sojiro said he fell for me nearly first-sight," Wakaba's voice got a little smaller. "I never understood how punching him in the face was a ticket to his heart, but it was. What a strange man, he was pretty popular in university, you know? Everyone thought we were dating, but I didn't feel that way. I've never really felt that way for any person, but if I was going to love someone, Sojiro is probably it."

"…Ishikki-san, you do realise you're espousing your middle-aged love problems at a teenage boy, right?" Akechi says, merely because he knows Wakaba can take it.

And she does, rolling her eyes. "Brat, I'm just telling you. Love comes from anywhere!"

"I thought we were talking about authority figures," Akechi says just to be a pain, before taking a small pause. "Wakaba-san, we're going the wrong way."

"Hah, drop the 'san'!"

"How could I ever be so impolite?" Akechi deadpans, and Wakaba punches him in the shoulder.

"You know, if you ever get over your weird secrecy hang-ups one day, you should join me and Futaba and Sojiro for dinner! I think you and Futaba will have a blast. Don't think I didn't recognise what franchise that gun model's from, Futaba was practically begging me to buy that exact thing a day later. You two nerds will get along like a house on fire. What's so great about Featherman R anyway?"

Barring his immediate response to defend the deep thematic concerns confronted in Featherman R, Akechi is struggling to process the rapid shift from light-hearted banter to the strange suffocation at the thought of joining the three for dinner at LeBlanc. Wakaba had repeatedly stated that Sojiro had given up questioning her on most things, so if he sat with them he would mostly be fielding Futaba, but it would be pretty easy. All he had to do was start a debate on her ships – Black and Blue? Or Black and Yellow? And she could natter on all day.

He knows. He's sat through it on the periphery as she rambled to a confused Yusuke, who had nonchalantly said the aesthetic design of Black complemented Blue better.

(Futaba Sakura had hated him the moment she realised he killed the woman in front of him.)

"Think about it, Goro-boy!" Wakaba smiles. "Your snakey-ness aside, I'm now convinced you aren't that bad of a guy. The invitation is always open! I know you like Sojiro's curry, so you have no excuses, heh."

Akechi blinks twice, before turning his head away, staring up at the dark twisted ceiling.

"Refusal is the only reply you'll ever get from me if you continue calling me _Goro-boy_ ," he replies.

"Shucks, Akechi! Don't walk so fast! Are you trying to leave a poor old defenceless woman behind in a scary, dangerous parallel universe?"

He slashes a Shadow blocking their way in half with his sword with more viciousness than warranted, before turning around to face her with a gentle smile. He doesn't quite meet her eyes.

"Of course not, Wakaba-san."

**Fortune Rank 7 – Wakaba Ishikki**

  


* * *

  


Rank 8 happens like this.

Akechi is editing an essay while he continues scrolling through names of released prisoners in the past few years. He knows something is there, call it a hunch. It's something that he thinks Atsuzawa's crew has overlooked not because of incompetence, but because they probably already scanned over such a matter before. He's got an angle, but no justification yet.

It's ten at night when Akechi gets a message. He squints at it, assesses the risks, and switches off his lamplight. He closes the curtains tightly and puts on a ratty black hoodie and pants in absolute darkness. Shimmering into the Metaverse to leave the dorm, he's all the way to Shibuya before he shifts out of the Metaverse into an alleyway that smells heavily like cat pee.

He finds the fire escape that Wakaba mentioned to a relatively high building with ease. A quick glance around shows there aren't any security cameras, and he climbs it quickly and quietly. At the very top is a door that is supposed to be locked but has been left cracked open.

Wakaba is sitting in her lab coat, legs swinging over the edge.

"That is quite dangerous, Wakaba-san," Akechi says while doing the exact same thing. He's always been blessed with a remarkable sense of balance, and it's with no fear that he sees the fifteen-floor drop underneath his feet. The Tokyo spread is limited – they aren't taller than a few skyscrapers in the east, but straight forward is a glittering view of shops, streets, people and apartments.

It's strange, to see Wakaba in tinges that are not red.

"Sorry for calling you out, Akechi," Wakaba says, voice subdued, glasses reflecting the nightscape in front of them. "Futaba got to Sojiro first, so I couldn't rant to him."

The dots are there. Not many things affect Wakaba. There are only three things that reliably do so – her research, her daughter, and Sojiro Sakura.

"You and Futaba fought?" Akechi says, and Wakaba nods.

"I'm pathetic," Wakaba mumbles. "Just because you kind of talk like a slimy businessman doesn't mean you aren't still a teen. You're only like, a year older than Futaba or something. What am I thinking?"

Wakaba has already let slip for a while now, that Akechi's offerings to accompany her more in the Metaverse had increased tensions with her daughter. Wakaba had already been a workaholic, but with Akechi's offer, she had only worked later and later. Futaba loved her mother's company, which only fuelled her hurt with Wakaba's continual absenteeism.

"I don't know much about friendship, Wakaba-san," he says, thinking of grey eyes crinkled up in trust, of those same eyes drugged, in pain, dead on the floor. But Akira had always done one thing for those precious to him, and if there was anybody to emulate it was probably the golden boy of friendships himself. "But the one thing I do know is that friends try to be there for each other when they can."

"Snake-boy admitting we're friends?" She says with a little edge of sardonic irony, and Akechi merely takes it lightly, as he does many things.

"Yes, I am," he says, chuckling gently.

"The concerning thing is that I don't even know if that's genuine or not and it's making me feel better," Wakaba answers, unhunching a little from her turtle pose. There's a bit of silence as Akechi sits still, and Wakaba swings her legs and taps her heels against the building. In that pause, Akechi hesitates, before continuing with a little blasé.

"Although there may be intergenerational misunderstandings, I can probably provide the perspective of a younger person, Wakaba-san."

Wakaba owl-blinks at him.

"Are you offering to listen to my problems, Goro-boy?"

"…Alright, I'm leaving."

"Wait, wait, Akechi! I mean, I'm just very surprised. You don't seem the type."

Akechi really wasn't. The last time he was listening to Ann Takamaki complain about the distance to Shiho Suzui's new school, he had his best smile pasted on, stepped to the periphery of the group, and wished that they began farming the Metaverse quicker.

Perhaps this decision to listen to Wakaba came from his realisation that this interaction was most likely the key to unlock the next rank of the Arcana. Knowing more about Futaba Ishikki was also a tactical choice.

"You've heard it before right? Back when we went to visit my Shadow," Wakaba says when he settles down next to her again. "It's times like these that I wonder if I'm a good mother or not. Parent-teacher basically said the same thing – they always see that Futaba doesn't have a father and get all _concerned_. They tell me she doesn't respect teachers as much as she should. Sometimes when nothing is happening around the block my _life_ is their prime gossip. 'That poor woman, she's a single mother, did you know?' And they say it again and again and again and it reaches Futaba's ears. Then she hugs me saying that all she needs is me, and _fuck_ , I'm just not there enough."

Wakaba heaves a breath in, and Akechi stays quiet. He watches.

Perhaps when he was younger he put all adults on a pedestal. Most children do – staring up these bigger humans with stronger hands than yours, who held more answers than you, who were the ones who taught you and fed you and made sure you were comfortable.

To a younger Akechi, his mother had been his world.

Then he lost her, and he had to realise early that no matter how big you got, no matter how old you are, everyone was still human. They all made mistakes, all fumbled through the dark. The concept of being 7 years old is foreign to a 6-year-old, just as being 40 is foreign to a 30-year-old.

To a parent, their first child is their first draft at parenting. The child they tried to mould themselves to, to become someone worth looking up to. Like any first attempt at anything, the experience would never be perfect.

"I thought I would be better at it now, fourteen years on. I'm always touting myself as a cool mom, but in reality I'm just another anxious wreck when I think I'll fail this small human being that somehow loves me because I created half of her genome and raised her up."

The wind blows Akechi's dark hood away from his head, and the sudden shock of cool air on his scalp is refreshing. Akechi breathes deep with this Metaverse friend of his – for once, not smelling the stale, corrosive air of Mementos but one of night-chill and dust.

"Do you regret it?" Is Akechi's short question.

Wakaba straightens up with sudden fierceness as she faces Akechi, glasses flashing with fury at the very thought.

" _Never._ I would never regret Futaba. No matter what anyone mutters about me being a _single mother_ or young mothers in general, Futaba is my treasure. I've made no mistakes, my daughter is my daughter. It's those people who would scoff at someone else's child that should fuck off and get out of my beeswax. Aren't there already thousands of unhappy traditional families anyway? Why are they saying that my happiness isn't worth anything because I'm not hitched to some office worker?"

Akechi rests his head on his knees, looking at Wakaba and sees a blurry image of another.

_"I'm sorry, Goro."_

_"It's all your father's fault, he, hic, he should apologise!"_

_"You-you ruined me. I, I wish you were never—"_

_"Goro, go down the street to the baths now. Mommy has to do work. Here's some change for a glass of milk, okay?"_

_"I love you, Goro. I love you." Sobbing, "I love you, okay? Do you love me?"_

"You're a good mother," Akechi smiles. "Do you hear yourself?"

Wakaba blinks.

"If you don't care about what others think," Akechi continues, "then the answer is simple. All people make mistakes, Wakaba-san. Those mistakes can lead to… hurt. Your daughter is still there to make up to, and after your apology, simply don't forget these arguments. You apologise and resolve yourself to do better. That's what you want to do, right? As you said, she's your daughter, after all."

His mother, hanging from the ceiling.

_Mom, am I not enough?_

What use were apologies when the other is already dead?

"Goro, you're surprisingly helpful," Wakaba says with a bit of light-heartedness, wiping her eyes sneakily. "I bet you don't argue with your mother."

Akechi debates a little in his head, but the words come out surprisingly smoothly.

"My mother was also a single mother like you," he says conversationally. "She committed suicide when I was young."

Wakaba freezes, before narrowing her eyes. "Wait, you don't think it's your fault do you—"

Akechi cuts her off. "Wakaba-san, your love for Futaba is greater than the gossip around you, and you don't regret your choice to succeed in both your career and your role as a mother. What you have now is a temporary setback, isn't it, Mad Pscientist-san?"

"Wait, answer my question first—"

"What are you planning on doing?"

Wakaba purses her lips tight in disapproval, but she doesn't try continuing her questions. Which is all well, Akechi thought with his warmest smile back on his face, because although he had offered the can of worms, he still wasn't truly interested in delving into it.

"I'm going to march straight down this building, go to LeBlanc, hug the shit out of Futaba and take her and Sojiro out for late-night ice-cream," she says with determination, like she's on a warpath. When Akechi nods, she waves for him to stop. "And kid. Goro. Goro Akechi, listen to me. You're a good kid, okay? I take back everything mean I ever said about you. Sure, you're a control freak and talk like a snake, but you're a good person."

 _You're talking to your murderer,_ Akechi doesn't say.

"And my invitation is still open. Wanna join me for late-night ice-cream? Sojiro always has a bit of an empty nest syndrome, you know. He's ridiculously attached to Futaba, and Futaba has always wanted an older brother."

_Akira will fill that role._

"I know you like sweets too," Wakaba continues, voice becoming more animated the longer he sits there without replying. "All the snacks you bring to Mementos are sweet, I've definitely noticed. You need to be careful about your dental hygiene, but more importantly, that only means late-night ice-cream is totally in your field of interest, right?"

Wakaba sits there, expectant, and somewhere, someplace in Akechi's heart, he wants to go. He can see it, in some other universe, trailing behind Wakaba like some dark awkward shadow. Wakaba would announce him in some ridiculous way, perhaps, and Sojiro would let it go after a few glances in between the two. He would gruffly tell Futaba to knock off the curious staring, who would obviously be a bit miffed that her special time with her mother and father-figure was interrupted by a stranger.

Perhaps slowly, in this other universe, the more he joins the more Futaba would warm up to him. Wakaba would mock, Akechi would return with sly quips, and Sojiro would sigh in exasperation as he spooned Futaba another bowl of ice-cream, or curry, or whatever it was for dinner that night.

But he can't.

The moment that thought flashed through his mind, Wakaba starts drooping. Perhaps they have been spending too much time together, a teen detective and an overenthusiastic scientist traversing the unknown. They read each other pretty well.

"It's not safe, I'm sorry," Akechi replies with rare sincerity.

"Come on, Shido this, Shido that. Nothing's happened," Wakaba tries again, and Akechi closes his eyes and thinks of Shido's last list.

Medical practitioners and scientists. All of them.

"No, I can't. Maybe… Maybe later," Akechi compromises, and Wakaba slaps him on the shoulder as they get off the edge of the building, stepping back to relative safety.

"Then it's a promise!"

Wakaba walks first towards the fire escape exit, and pauses, obviously waiting for Akechi to come with her.

Perhaps this time he presses the Metaverse button with more determination than before, as Wakaba and all the glittering signs of life in front of him disappear. He sneaks into his dorm by slinking through the Metaverse, appearing back into his room with no-one the wiser. His curtains are still tightly shut, and his edited essay still neatly stacked on his table.

Somewhere, he hopes Wakaba has reconciled with Futaba with her usual, slightly awkward flair. That they're in a parlour somewhere with Sojiro arguing about which flavour's the best for supper and leaving the ugly remnants of their argument behind.

He, however, takes a peek through his curtains and sees what he's been seeing for the past two weeks. It's the small gleam of a camera from the apartment beside the dorm, trained to his window, and Akechi takes a step back. Changing out of his clothes and truly sleeping in his bed now, he tries to not feel perturbed that it's nearing Wakaba's death-day. August 30th.

She only has to survive past August 30th.

On the 27th of August, Shido sends him a package. Inside, there's a list, alongside a small box.

Inside are a few boxes of ammunition. Packed next to it is a familiar gun.

At the end of the list of high profile politicians, runaway lenders, and uncompromising opponents is a familiar name.

_Wakaba Ishikki._

  


**Fortune Rank 8 – Wakaba Ishikki.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Akechi tried but he didn't get to rank 10 uwu. What will happen? Feel free to type your thoughts, XD. I hope I did Wakaba justice.  
> I'm getting later and later posting chapters, aren't I? It's still Saturday for me though, so I'm happy :D.  
> Thanks for your comments and kudos guys. It makes me really happy, heheh. There's so many my heart feels very floof.  
> Anyways, see you next week!


	12. Chapter 12

When Wakaba barrels through the door of the Safe Room, Akechi doesn't even have to scrounge up any of the conversation starters that he prepared beforehand. Wakaba pants, looking for all that she sprinted here, collapsing on the seat opposite him with a flump. "I think you were right, Akechi. You were right all along. Fuck."

"What happened?" Akechi asks.

"I caught someone in my lab accessing my personal computer," Wakaba says darkly. "When I asked someone to track what they did, they've put their grubby paws on nearly everything. They've somehow even changed my will. Maybe some of your paranoia is rubbing off on me, but who would change someone's will to benefit themselves if they're not planning on killing them?"

Akechi blinks. He's already planned his conversation, but it's beginning better than he thought. He will get Rank 9 today, no matter what.

"I think it is time to come clean on my association with Shido, Wakaba-san," Akechi says, and Wakaba turns puzzled eyes on him.

"You know I don't care about your mysteriousness, right—"

Her words stop as she looks at what he placed on the table. The gun and the list of names on the side is placed in the centre. Alongside that, Akechi offers his phone with his text log that shows its incriminating last message. Wakaba falls silent after she takes it all in, and Akechi uses the opportunity to fully explain his circumstances.

"A few months ago, I found I had the powers to access the Metaverse and accidentally saved Shido's life with them. He quickly realised what the powers of the Metaverse could bring, and I accepted a deal with him to test the extent of my powers."

Akechi slightly twisted the story, but his bitter laugh is as genuine as it gets. Wakaba listens intently with a frown, even as she curiously touches the gun to check if it's real.

"Early on, I realised something was amiss with the things he was trying to do," Akechi continues. "Many experiments involved trying to break into physical spaces, coercion, interrogating Shadows for private information, and what effects violence and such against Shadows would bring." He places his hands on his lap neatly. "Shido is not one to leave his aces for someone else to use, Wakaba-san. By how quickly the experiments were escalating and Shido's own corrupt moral character, even then I believed that he was grooming me to be an assassin."

"The perfect murderer," Wakaba echoes his own thoughts.

"Yes," Akechi agrees. "Around the time of this realisation, I found a list of cognitive phenomenon researchers in his study. You were the most accessible out of this whole list, Wakaba-san."

"Then you contacted me and brought me in here. We've never seen anyone else, have we?" Wakaba says slowly, fingers tapping the table as if she was wishing she had something to jot notes with. "If you didn't bring me here, you would be unhindered to do whatever you want, Goro."

"Yes," he says with a little consternation. "I am indeed the perfect killer in that sense."

The both of them look at the gun in between them, and Wakaba swallows heavily.

"With each act I do for Shido, the more I'm embroiled in his schemes," Akechi admits, looking down to the hands. "I already have cameras tracking my moves, and Shido has effectively threatened to take away my independence if I ever disobey or leave him. For personal reasons, I do not mind being shackled to him for now… But Wakaba-san, there's one thing I do not wish to concede."

"You don't wish to kill," Wakaba finishes for him, her eyes completely serious behind her glasses. Her fingers tap against the table more agitatedly now. "The reason why you wish for me to research a drug that induces a coma is to trick Shido."

"Yes," Akechi smiles. "I've been increasing my worth by interrogating a lot of suspects. I know he is impressed, and I wish to establish my worth with my information gathering abilities more so than assassination. To do that, I need to fake that killing a Shadow doesn't kill in real life."

"Why don't you just lie and say killing Shadows does nothing to the real person?"

Akechi smiles wryly. "That won't work, Wakaba-san."

In all his experiments, Shido had never once doubted that acting against a Shadow _wouldn't_ affect reality in some way. He trusted Akechi's extracted information as explicitly as someone like Shido could and held great expectations on what killing a Shadow would bring even the first time around. An absolute null response like 'killing a Shadow doesn't affect reality at all' could perhaps trigger Shido to ask whether that is true with the Mastermind, the actual worst-case scenario.

"Ugh," Wakaba grunts in frustration, making a mess of her bob as she rakes her hands through it. "Kid, _Goro_ , why didn't you tell me all of this earlier?" She looks genuinely upset when she continued with an irritated snap. "And stop _smiling!_ There's nothing in this situation worth smiling about, is there?"

Akechi shrugs. "Perhaps," he concedes, and his smile flattens as he reaches to take the gun back, putting it in the box alongside the list. It's a clinical movement when he checks the gun's safety, and when Akechi looks at Wakaba, he doesn't bother putting up pretences.

"In another life, Wakaba-san, I would've been your executioner."

"Yeah, I'm figuring that out," Wakaba leans back in her chair with a sigh, thunking her head on the nearby wall. "If you weren't such a good person, I would be dead before I even realise, wouldn't I?"

Hah. _Good person._

"Goro, I haven't finished the drug yet." She pushes on. "But if you need one now, I have a beta product. It's a heavy, extreme sleep drug. Inject it into a Shadow and it'll knock out their Real World counterpart for a few hours, _at least_. I haven't made an agent that'll wake them up yet though."

Akechi considers this and looks at the list in his hand. Five names, for a weekly task.

"That'll be enough for now," he nods, before rising up from their table. "I need five vials. I'll keep you updated," Akechi says with sardonic humour, "if this ruse works or not."

Five vials richer, he delays.

He delays and delays until he reaches August the 30th just for his own satisfaction before he visits the very first Shadow.

As he stares down the yellow eyes of the muttering Shadow, he thinks, he's already changed fate. He thinks, _Wakaba Ishikki is still living another day_. The day is still swelteringly hot, the journey in Mementos still filled to the brim with burning Shadows wailing about their suffering.

But on August the 30th, the Shadow beneath his fingers is not Wakaba.

**Fortune Rank 9 – Wakaba Ishikki**  


* * *

  
GA: It seems that killing a Shadow results in a few hours of forced unconsciousness to their counterpart in the real world

GA: I continued observing the killed Shadow. It slowly healed itself during those few hours until it was fully revived

GA: Should I continue the experiment?

**No. Listen to my instructions at a later date.**

This is the only reply until a week into September, where Shido instructs him to kill one of the Shadows on his list at 9:00 PM exactly. He does what Shido says, using his third vial of drug that evening.

The next day, he sees broad headlines that the director fainted just as he was leaving the company, later dying in hospital after a medical misdiagnosis. His death sparked debate over some outdated legislation, which was when politician Masayoshi Shido took the stage, demanding the nation not neglect its most vulnerable members, reminding that everyone will use the healthcare system many times in their lives. His proposal for an investigation into Japanese hospitals alongside a new bill was well-received by the government and the greater public.

Akechi reads this with a rueful laugh.

At least he's demoted himself to a hidden accomplice.  


* * *

  
The old politician dies without input from Akechi with the newspapers citing old age, and the broker also dies as a minor article in the news. But Shido does enlist him to put the estranged noble to sleep on his front porch. There, he was killed in the old-fashioned assassin way – a bullet to the brain from a sniper in the trees.

Akechi has merely become a security to his assassination plans, someone to use only when the target has a steady routine. So he tells Wakaba to leak her timetable for the few weeks to Shido as casually as she can. Before he can suggest ways for her to do so, Wakaba has already replied.

[MadPscientist: got it, don't worry.]

A few days later Shido sends him a text. The 10th of September, 7:45 PM, he is to go to Wakaba's Shadow and put her to sleep.

He sends this information straight to Wakaba, whose response is a string of colourful characters before it turns coherent.

[MadPscientist: omfg i cant believe this is futaba's sperm donor]

[MadPscientist: thats when i pick up futaba from cram school if you do it then shell see it all wtf]

[MadPscientist: my last shred of respect for him is utterly gone.]

[MadPscientist: do you have any plans?]

[GA: Yes. All you have to do is change your plans last minute. If it's your daughter's cram school, call her up as sick a few minutes before class. By 7:45, go to somewhere with a lot of people where you're not in the open, or some place where you know is safe. Stay there for three hours.]

[GA: I'm familiar with the hitman Shido is hiring. He's not the type to chase a kill. If the information given is accurate, he will complete the job 100%. But if the information he's given is wrong, he'll cite it as the employer's problem and leave.]

[MadPscientist: im not even gonna ask why youre so familiar with this but ok I have a place in mind]

She sends a screenshot of a university campus.

[MadPscientist: ill borrow a lab there, its owned by a friend. taking a 3 hr nap there is quite normal.]

[GA: I'll leave it to you.]

When he puts down his phone, he stops to process for a moment. He scrolls the chat back a little and stares. Even when the lunch bell rings and everyone is scrambling out the classroom, Akechi keeps staring at the message that Futaba Ishikki's wedlock father is Masayoshi Shido. It's not surprising, perhaps, that with Shido's proclivity that he would have siblings somewhere. It's just surprising that it is _Futaba Ishikki_.

Had he ever spoken anything to her privately, outside of the Phantom Thieves?

"Are you alright, Akechi-kun?" The timid voice of their class representative interrupts his thoughts, and he automatically smiles at her, something that she receives with something of a blush. She's not the type to ever confront him about it though, so he ignores it.

"Thank you for checking in, Sakura-san. I merely received a surprising personal text."

"Oh no," Mai Sakura immediately gasps in concern. "Is it something bad? I hope everything's okay."

"No, it's more disturbing than anything truly horrific. I appreciate your concern though."

Mai's face turns a deeper shade of pink.

"N-no, it's my pleasure, Akechi-kun. You always do your chores so diligently, and you tutor other members of the class all the time… I just thought someone should care for you just as much as you care for others! Umm!" Mai cuts herself off then, shrinking into herself in mortification. "A-anyway, Akechi-kun. Do you want to head to the cafeteria together?"

The cafeteria's food is too expensive for his tastes, but he stands up gracefully anyway. Mai Sakura's uncle is part of the school board. It isn't a bad relation to make.

"Let's go," he smiles warmly at her. "Any specials on today?"  


* * *

  
On the 10th of September, Akechi is standing in an alleyway close to LeBlanc in Yongen-Jaya while Wakaba settles Futaba Ishikki down with Sojiro Sakura.

"See ya, Sojiro!" Wakaba called over her shoulder, giving a jaunty wave as she steps out. "Thanks for minding Futaba again for me!"

A hand on her shoulder stops her from fully stepping over the threshold, and the door's jingle is abnormally loud as the two stays in the doorway, the tall figure of Sojiro Sakura a slim silhouette.

"I don't know what you're doing, Wakaba," Sojiro replies quietly after Akechi hears him telling Futaba to wash her hands so they could cook together. His voice is deep with concern. "But you've been off these past few weeks. You know I always have your back. If there's anything wrong, tell me. I'll help you best I can."

He feels Wakaba falter. Both from Wakaba's Shadow and from her own frank admission, Sojiro Sakura is an important figure to her life. He had been there through the years where she had been struggling to balance life and schooling, had appeared with no questions asked whenever either she or Futaba ever needed help. He had never let his unrequited feelings ever bitter their relationship, something precious to them both.

 _"I've been trying,"_ Wakaba had said once, _"Trying to love Sojiro back for so long. And I think I'm getting there. He's something else, you know? Not many people can wait for years for someone to figure out their feelings. Figures right,"_ she laughed mockingly, _"that I'm finally realising my feelings when it's too late."_

"Sojiro… Remember about what I said before?" Wakaba says, and Sojiro releases a large sigh.

"That if I know too much I'll be in danger? That's bullshit, Wakaba. I left my government post because I wanted a change of pace, not because of whatever conspiracy theory you cooked up. I'm an adult—"

Akechi finally steps out onto the street and signals to Wakaba that they need to go. They're wasting too much time, and Wakaba needs to be in her safe zone before he can enact their plan. Wakaba nods slightly, but Sojiro Sakura is a sharper man than he would've expected. It's only due to quick reflexes that Akechi manages to slip back into the alleyway he hid himself in before Sojiro Sakura takes a quick step around Wakaba to glare into the street.

"Whoever you are, show yourself," Sojiro says, voice low and laced with an edge of a threat. "I just want to have a simple chat about certain matters concerning our mutual friend here."

Akechi doesn't move, not willing to expose himself any further than he needs to. He's only here because Wakaba was nervous, and he was half-way hopeful that some increased interaction would get their Rank to 10.

It hasn't happened yet.

"Sojiro, stop it," Wakaba says as she stomps around Sojiro, voice exasperated, just in time for a girl's voice to sound brightly behind them in the café.

"Mom, you're still here? I thought you said you were in a hurry!" Futaba's voice asks curiously, stepping out alongside them. Orange hair, brown eyes. Akechi's never noticed before, but Wakaba and Futaba grinned in exactly the same way. "Maybe if you come back soon, I can save you a plate of my absolutely amazing cooking, muahaha!"

"You mean Sojiro's cooking right?" Wakaba teases, flicking her daughter on the head before using it as enough distraction to take a few steps back. Sojiro doesn't follow her when Futaba attracts his attention again, though his eyes follow Wakaba's figure as she walks rapidly down the street. Akechi takes his cue, stealing his way through the alleyways to Shibuya station.

The text comes after ten minutes or so.

[MadPscientist: im there]

[GA: Good, I'll begin. At precisely 7:45, make sure you're in a secure place.]

He traverses Mementos until he's in front of Wakaba's Shadow a few minutes early. The syringe of the sleeping agent is steady in his hand as Wakaba's Shadow doesn't even protest, standing still with her eyes staring down at Akechi as he stares at his phone for the time to change.

At 7:45 he pushes the needle in and injects it. As he's seen all the times before, the Shadow blinks sleepily, before collapsing onto the floor. Leaving it there, he returns back to the surface to his normal routine for the hidden camera's sake.

Homework, some light reading. It's ten at night when Akechi's phone pings with a message.

[MadPscientist: im safe. our plan worked.]

Akechi honestly waits with a bit of bated breath for some grand announcement saying their cooperation made their Arcana rank to 10, but it doesn't happen.

But even without it, Wakaba lives on.

Fate, continually changing.  


* * *

  
Shido's next plan was for Akechi to sleep Wakaba right when she's holding a speech for an important conference on September the 15th. This time, Wakaba has to go – apparently not attending is _scientific death._

This time, Wakaba miraculously avoids some falling scaffolding as she faints right after a bounding leap she does in the middle of her presentation, landing straight into her audience. She's hurriedly carted off by a crowd of her peers to the medical tent, where she's pronounced fine.

Waking up a few hours later, Wakaba claims that she noticed that something was weird with the scaffolding, so she tried to dodge it. To faint for so long, she guessed she must've bumped her head on a chair or something.

This time, Akechi is there when Shido hears the news, and the anger is something to behold. In the past, whenever Shido got frustrated or angry over his plans not working as they should, he would bellow to his phone, or simmer in silence as he plotted his next move. He's demanding answers from someone in the phone who seems to be constantly apologising as Akechi stands to the side, watching with a sense of trepidation.

Continuing to field his attacks isn't sustainable.

[MadPscientist: but where would i run to? shido has his grubby paws everywhere in japan. and you even said that taking down shido doesnt mean anything, because hes actually part of this huge conspiracy.]

That statement is also true. Running wouldn't work, fielding wouldn't work. Attacking so early in the game would be useless and no miracle solution was forthcoming.

(No matter what he did, whatever topic he raises, whatever suggestions he makes, their Arcana refused to rank up to 10.)  


* * *

  
Another week passes. Akechi searches Shido's desk whenever he's called up, but there are no new assassination orders. On the 19th, Shido requests Akechi to meet him in his apartment. That day, the bad temper Shido had been sporting for the past month disappeared.

Instead, Shido's sits in his chair, oddly patient, eyes trained to the glittering cityscape outside his windows even when Akechi finishes reporting. Shido doesn't ask him to leave, so Akechi continues standing there, serving as an audience to a play he doesn't know yet.

The clock chimed nine. Something blooms in the corner of his eye.

"Ah," Shido sighs in satisfaction. "There you go."

Akechi lets his gaze follow Shido's, out the large floor-to-ceiling windows, to a sudden plume of slow-rising smoke in the darkness of the night. The slight red-orange glow of a fire was like a beacon in the night. From Shido's high-rise, the smoke trail looked almost comically small as it slowly started rising into the air. The location was near the edge of the city, right where—

Akechi's pupils shrunk as he controlled his breath, hiding his reaction by looking down at his sleeves and adjusting his cuffs.

It's finally happened.

They've run out of time.

"It seems like you recognise Wakaba Ishikki's research centre," Shido's smooth voice cut into his thoughts, and he gives up on the button to look up again. Shido's smirk fills his vision, his head rested on his steepled fingers even as Akechi spots tiny red and blue lights racing down the streets towards the blaze. "We've failed a few times, but we've finally succeeded. She wasted a lot more money and time than I expected, but third time's the charm."

Akechi swallows.

"Congratulations," he manages to say, and Shido nods.

"You were the only one who did their job correctly throughout this mission, Akechi. I'm not an unfair man. You can expect your reward in your letterbox later."

Shido obviously expects a reply in his good mood, as his eyes continue to follow the trail of orange smoke with a glitter of amusement.

"Thank you, Shido-san. May I ask to be excused? I apologise for disrupting your moment, but I have an assignment due soon."

"You may," Shido replies, not bothering to look at him as he continues staring out the window.  


  


* * *

  
The moment he's in the streets Akechi hails a passing taxi and rattles the address of Wakaba's research centre. No matter how he's trying to hide it, some of his panic must be edging his voice because the taxi driver sits to attention with a little more alertness.

"As quickly as possible please," Akechi doesn't nearly plead as much as demand, and the thin hands of the taxi driver grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Buckle up, boy," he says gruffly even as he steps on the pedal and they shoot forward a little wildly onto the main road.

Perhaps traffic is kind, or it's the frankly dizzying skills of the taxi driver weaving through cars as he did, but they reach the block which holds Wakaba's laboratory in record time. As they draw closer, the more traffic there is, the brighter the red glow in the edge of the night. The taxi driver seems to make his own conclusions by how Akechi's eyes are trained to the smoke rising up into the night.

He swerves into a stop soon after.

"Kid, considering the commotion its closest to stop here. Go through that alleyway over there and turn right," the man says, tone sympathetic, and Akechi nods as he pushes the fare at the driver and practically hurls himself out the taxi. He races out the alleyway into a crowd of people who are all staring and gasping at the wild flames that lick the night. Fire trucks have already cordoned off the main area, and firefighters were hosing down the flames and the buildings on the side. As Akechi quickly slips through the crowd, he spots a few ambulances already on standby, and a commotion as one of the patients squirm underneath a paramedic's strong grip.

"There are still a few researchers in there!" The young man is yelling, glasses nearly slipping off his face.

A ripple of a murmur passes through the crowd as a firefighter emerges from the building, and Akechi stares just like everyone else as the fighter puts the body down in front of the paramedics.

Nudging closer, closing in on the barrier now, Akechi spots the body – he is a middle-aged man, coat burnt and singed. Not Wakaba. That paramedic tending to that woman over there – not Wakaba. The one with a shock blanket over them – not Wakaba.

The young man isn't calming down. "My supervisor is still in there! Please, there's still someone in there! Ishikki-san should still be inside the lab!"

This is all Akechi needs to blend back into the crowd to the side and reach for his phone.

The Metaverse is silent. The burning heat of the flames against his side is gone. The crowd is gone. The building in front of him is as cold and dark as ever, and the dark red tinge of the Metaverse gleams against the concrete almost wet.

Akechi runs inside.  


* * *

  
The building is more broken down than usual, and parts of the building keep melting away. It keeps footing treacherous as Akechi leaps over stacks of rubble and swings himself around corners that he's only heard vague descriptions of.

To the left, Wakaba had once said, her private lab was the one at the very end of the corridor.

His feet ring hard against the grimy tiled floor until a tile suddenly cracks and gives away under him, opening up into a wide yawning darkness that Akechi starts falling into. Akechi simply has _no time for this_. He's been through more treacherous Palaces before, all by himself. Although he is not an intruder delving into the secrets of humanity that Mementos hides, it's with determination that he summons the feelings that he once had – when he was a child watching television, his mother behind him humming a vaguely familiar tune.

 _"Of course superheroes exist, Goro,"_ his mother laughed. It was one of her good days, where her smiles were a little brighter, and she liked to watch Akechi play. _"They give justice for all those who can't fight for themselves!"_

 _"I wanna be one when I grow up!"_ Akechi clenched his small fists, imagining himself swinging Green's sabre as he swung around the duster instead. _"Cos they're so cool!"_

Robin Hood's regalia melts onto his form, the white princely uniform and the red mask materialising on his face with the echo of his mother's laugh, and Akechi reaches for the edge of it with clawed hands. He rips it off with savagery, scowling down at the darkness already swallowing his feet.

"Robin Hood!" He yells, and even though there are no Shadows to contend with Robin Hood materialises behind him. "Megaton Raid!"

There's a spark of hesitation before Robin reels back, and the next second Akechi isn't falling into the depths of the ice-cold unknown anymore - he's biting back extreme pain as Robin's hit blasts him straight in the back. He tastes blood in his mouth as he flies forward, rolling down the corridor until he barely catches himself from crashing straight into the wall. It takes a few seconds before he catches enough breath to get up. He's a little woozy when he staggers forward, his ribs creaking as he reaches a hand to the only door at the end of the corridor and opens it.

A laboratory in shambles greets him, and Akechi clenches his jaw as he pulls his phone out and taps the Metaverse app.

Unrelenting heat immediately slams into him even before Akechi has truly shifted back into reality, and Akechi quickly crouches despite the protests of his ribcage. The drowning roar of the crackling flames are next, and when Akechi takes a glance back he realises the door is already engulfed in flames, as well as the corridor behind it. There're ominous creaking noises above him, and the smoke is thick enough that Akechi can't see clearly.

"Wakaba!" He calls as loudly as he can, going around a few boiling hot lab tables, the glass on top of them long shattered. "Where are you?"

There's no answer, and Akechi continues calling out until he can't. His skin is too hot for his body, his sweat evaporating straight off his skin, and he nearly doesn't register it when he does stumble upon a hand. It takes a bleary second before Akechi snaps to action, grabbing it and immediately tapping the Metaverse app.

Cold seeps back in, and Akechi breathes a few large lungfuls of air as he lays Wakaba down on the floor of the building. Even though it's still relatively unstable, he has to make sure that he can move her without vitally injuring something.

At a quick glance, one of her legs is folded funnily, and her side was lacerated with something, as even through some severe looking burns Akechi can see some wet glimmers cracking through. Half of her neatly cut hair is matted with blood.

No place seems safe to touch.

"Goro?" Wakaba coughs out wetly, before immediately scrunching up her face in pain. "Oh, _ow_. Are-are we in the Metaverse?"

"Yes, I'm going to get you close to the rescue team immediately, Wakaba-san. I'm going to lift you now. Three, two…"

"No, go back!" Wakaba's fingers clutch at his sleeve and clench, and Akechi stares wide-eyed at her in confusion. "Get my laptop. I managed to hide it under the table, hurry!"

"Wakaba, you're injured—"

"Now, Goro Akechi!" She demands, and Akechi realises that she won't cooperate until this is done. Pulling out his phone, he taps the Metaverse app again. Smoke hits his lungs hard, the room already in a worse state than before. Wakaba's desk is right next to him, and he hurries to grab the laptop hidden under a few sheets. Akechi manages to warp back just as the ceiling started caving in. Wakaba's wordless relief is transformed when the room they're in starts cracking at the edges, its real counterpart destroyed.

The world is disintegrating around them, shedding and warping, and Akechi bends down next to Wakaba with urgency.

"Where can I lift you, Wakaba-san?" Akechi asks, serious. "Are any of your internals hurt?"

"I honestly can't tell," Wakaba replies with a grimace. "The world is pain. Just lift me, because I definitely can't walk. Better be out of here than greet certain death, am I right?"

Akechi nods before forcing a deep breath as he reached up to pull his mask off again.

"Robin Hood! Megaton Raid!"

He bears the pain from what Raid takes from him, injuries aching worse as Robin Hood pulls energy to direct a mighty blow at the weakened window frame in the wall. The window crashes and crumbles, leaving a jagged hole half a metre up.

"Get ready," he mutters half to himself as he carefully places himself on Wakaba's unburnt side and lifts her up. He grits his teeth. She's heavy like all bodies are, and he takes a deep breath and hauls them forward. Step by step, he reaches the hole in the wall and awkwardly manoeuvres them through.

Robin Hood punched it too high up for him to easily step over it, but they're nearly in the clear until his foot snags on a sharp piece of protruding concrete and he trips, dropping Wakaba who immediately curls around her laptop protectively. There's a sickening crunch.

"Okay," Wakaba hisses faintly. "I think a rib finally gave in and stabbed something."

Akechi is pulling himself up with a harsh exhale, his own breathing compromised. "Sorry," he manages, carefully rolling her over before stopping when Wakaba gives a wet gurgle of pain. He lets go with a jerk backwards, leaving her face-down on the floor.

She can't be moved any more, and Akechi hedges his bet and reaches for his phone again, putting one hand on her shoulder as they exit the Metaverse.

Immediately, his back is blazing hot, and when he turns around the shattered window behind them is not an improbable way for Wakaba to escape. Assessing the situation around them (deserted, for now), Wakaba herself is suddenly lit in colour, and the red in her dark green hair, the horrific burns on her side, her half-melted clothes—

Akechi swallows. Even if this rescue is successful, recovery will be a long, involved process.

"Don't look at me like that, Goro-boy," Wakaba manages to say. She tries to laugh, but it turns into a somewhat wet gasp instead. "I won't die yet. Give me my phone, it's in my pocket."

Miraculously, the phone still works, and Wakaba shakily tells him her PIN.

"Inside my phone is a list of all my passwords for my computer. They're both yours, okay?" Wakaba asks, voice fading out every other word. Her face continues to try to twist her grimace into a grin. "Remember, this isn't your fault kid. We did good, okay? Saved my life twice before the hounds came. Gotta count for something, heh."

Akechi is done with this.

"Someone!" He shouts loudly, ignoring Wakaba. "Anyone, help! There's someone hurt!"

Wakaba's smile relaxes.

"Stop smiling," Akechi curses when he looks back down. "You've got nothing to be smiling about."

"Heh, backtalking already. Kids these days," Wakaba grumbles fondly, and Akechi gently shakes her when she seems like she's going to fall asleep. She startles with a hiss of pain before her eyes droop again. "Hey, promise me something?" She mumbles into the dirt. Akechi hears a few people already starting to run around the corner. He needs to leave, but he kneels to catch Wakaba's few last words. "Take care of Futaba?" 

Akechi swallows, thinking of Wakaba's black eyes, and Futaba's brown ones.

His own brown eyes. Shido's brown eyes. 

"…Of course," he replies gently.

"Thanks, snake-boy."

Her lingering smile is the last thing he sees as he takes the laptop and phone. With a tap, he warps into the Metaverse right before the first responders rush around the corner. He takes a few moments, breathing heavily as he tries to take stock of his own injuries and pains. Some parts of his body don't wish to move, but he forces them anyway, using the wall as leverage as he stumbles forward towards the front.

He phases out when he's arranged his clothes as presentably as possible, just in time to see Wakaba being carefully loaded into an ambulance.

She's safe, for now.

But it will not last long.

Shido calling Akechi over, that smirk of satisfaction when he watched the flames alight – that all indicated that Wakaba's continued escape from death has made her case a personal mission. 

Knowing that Wakaba has escaped yet again will only cause Shido to act because Shido didn't deal with _losing_ very well.

The research institute in front of him burns with an almighty groan, golden sparks floating into the overwhelming acridity of the billowing black smoke. News crews have finally arrived on scene, reporters setting up their cameras and microphones to make live news reports, police shooing people away from crowding the barrier. Akechi uses the moment of distraction when the balcony falls with a groan to take his leave.

If he can't protect Wakaba because he is still too weak, then he only needs to rely on someone who _is_ strong enough.

He's written enough reports to know how to fake one.  


* * *

  
_[To: kirijocognitiveresearch@----mail.com_

_…and in the most recent investigation on Agent XX2134, we found it induced an interesting state of psychosis on a consenting test subject after it had been approved of being safe for human application. Measures on the subject's physical status were unchanged except for increased gamma waves during the REM cycle. After the subject woke up, he reported his subjective experience immediately into a recorder available (whole interview available in Appendix A)._

_He described that after applying Agent XX2134 he felt as if he was falling in what seemed like space. Having fallen for a while, he arrived at a stream of stars or bright light. When questioned on this stream later, he said he didn't remember much except that 'I felt like I had to get away from it, that it wasn't my time yet'._

_After waiting at the stream he decided to walk forward. He reported that it was a surprisingly boring period of dreaming – nothing happened until the end, where he neared what seemed like the only anomaly in the landscape. When he neared, he saw that it was a golden door, with what seemed like a stone figure chained to it in a pose reminiscent of typical renditions of the sacrificial cross in Christianity. What this may symbolise is of yet unknown…_

_…ultimately shows that Agent XX2134 has potential to induce dreams or hallucinations that lead to that place with the Golden Door. This research furthers the hypothesis that there is a meta-cognitive realm beyond our understanding of Earth…_

_Principal Researcher: Wakaba Ishikki]_

Akechi hits send on Wakaba's laptop and closes it after cutting its connection to the internet. He wanders through the Metaverse without much destination in mind.

This place and it's dark corners all his, once again. In the end, he doesn't know what he's thinking when his feet lead him to Shido's apartment complex. Logically, he knows, he should clean Wakaba's blood off his hands and the clothes he is wearing. He needs a replacement immediately, as the clothes are also burnt. His hair is definitely singed, and his injuries need to be treated.

He stares up at this building, feeling a little disconnected.

_"Remember, it's not your fault, kid. We did good, okay?"_

They're tears of pain, and her smile is wavering.

 _Ah, so that's why,_ Akechi thinks. He takes a step forward, then another, ignoring the twinges in his ribs, the difficulty in his breath as he starts his climb upwards.  


* * *

  
Late that night, a nurse walked over to Wakaba's form on the hospital bed. She checked the machines, replaced the bags, before pulling out a syringe from her tray and began injecting its contents into the IV drip.

"What are you doing?"

The nurse doesn't stop her actions, even though she has already tensed up, ready to run. She relaxes slightly when she sees a foreign girl at the entrance of the room who couldn't be older than sixteen.

"Miss, visiting hours are over," the nurse says politely, taking out the syringe and putting it back onto her tray. "If you want to visit, please—"

The nurse is interrupted when she faints from a chop to the back of her neck. Neatly stepping over her body, Aigis unhooks the bag from the drip and opens it, taking a tentative sniff before decisively detaching it and ringing the bell for another nurse.

Later, as the nurse has been dragged away for interrogation, Aigis sits next to Wakaba while on the phone.

"Yes, Mitsuru-senpai… It seems like there are at least a few people aiming for her life… Yes, don't worry. I won't let anyone get in the way of the first clue that we've had to Minato in years."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was so difficult to write. not in the idea way, which i had a clue on, but in the 'words are coming out constipated but im gonna write it anyway because i told myself to consistently write way' so my many, many apologies if this was awkward. im gonna edit it soon but i'm just really tired. XD sorry.  
> thanks so much for your support though guys. we broke 500! :D honestly expected it to slow down by now, hah.  
> i'm becoming familiar with your names in the comments hehe. thanks for all of you who left a comment. they brighten up my day literally, hah.


	13. Chapter 13

_Is this fair_ , Akechi wonders under his crystal-focus, his analytical calm. _Is this fair when I just met you?_

His leg burns and his ribcage hurts so much that he can't breathe properly, but Akechi continues to climb, mechanically putting one foot before the other as he climbs crumbled stairs. It's not the worst that he's needed to walk through, and it won't be the last.

His mind is oddly muted, and in that silence is clarity.

He clears another flight of stairs, and another dark square of red light shines into his face before he leaves it behind. The gnarled city below has become a black silhouette leading to a dimmed horizon as he steps upwards. Still, he climbs.

Shido, after all, lives on the forty-second floor.

It is only when he's reached the forty-first, and the stairway has well and truly become blocked does Akechi stand in front of the window, glancing out. It is then that for the first time this evening does one of his Personas speak.

**What is your goal?**

"To kill Shido," Akechi replies blandly, checking the gun that he had slid into his belt earlier in the evening before swinging himself up out the window. It's with a clinical, calculating efficiency in mind that he judges the next move to get the balcony above him.

He knew, he knew Morrigan would try to stop him, for she is born as much from Minato's bond as himself. Minato had always believed in him more than he himself did.

 **Murder is the solution of a killer** , Morrigan says, sure enough. Robin Hood sends waves of sadness over him, waves that sometimes threaten to feel like they're choking him, like the air is too thick to breathe. **Only when parties uphold the rules and honour does violence transform into battle** , Morrigan continues, her voice as gentle as he's ever heard it. **The difference between a murderer and a soldier is as thin as a knife. Over a corpse, a soldier only maintains his status as a soldier when he fights for ideals greater than he. For family, for country, for love… for a better future. The moment any kills another for selfish purpose is the moment one transforms into a murderer.**

Her voice has a sad tinge to it, and Akechi is momentarily distracted as he hauls himself up yet another step. Only three more paces and he's there, clambering onto Shido's Metaverse balcony, gun in his hand.

A murderer. That's an apt term for what he was – twisted by an obsession so deep he didn't attempt to justify his actions even to himself. In the past, shadows fell in front of his gun with no remorse. He had watched them disintegrate, mind already calculating how to twist this case into something sellable for his Detective Prince image. He would visit the families of those he killed afterwards and provide hypocritical sympathy in the guise of effective investigation.

 _"Thank you,"_ they would say through tears. After he's placated them and shown enough concern, they would say _'please bring them to justice'_ or _'you're very kind'_ , and Akechi would merely take the details he needs for the next news interview and go.

Akechi scrolling down his computer screen, when he was still tracing the Phantom Thieves of Hearts at Shido's urgent command.

_Hypocritical, isn't it, to believe in the beauty of humanity and change only to forcibly steal their hearts?_

Akira's thrilled smirk in the heat of battle, his confident walk as he waved for them all to follow. Akira's more muted expressions in the real world, shuttered as he observed the world in silent acquiescence. Akira, who never judged and had ever acted consistently on one matter; his helping hand to anyone he sees in need. Akechi already knows the answer if he had ever asked.

Akira, tilting his head. _That someone remorseful is left after we steal treasures is proof that there's beauty in everyone, Akechi._

Akechi, who had never regretted his decisions before watching Akira's wild, steadfast heart.

He hated him. For his kindness, his powers, for being the unwavering hero he could not help but admire.

(If only—)

 _A second chance._ He'd grasped that phrase hoping that he could erase his past, and he thinks that he did quell the rage for the past few months. He does not face kindness with as much apathy as before. Akechi finds enough of himself to enjoy sweets when he can, steals Atsuzawa's share of cookies from an indulgent Naho. He watches children laughing on the street and doesn't wish for silence, he tutors his classmates and is starting to somewhat see that their benign lives are a sort of blessing. He delves into Mementos not to feed his resentment, but to laugh at Wakaba's efforts to create a Persona of her own.

He has been learning these past few months. He is starting to see what all the others in his life saw so easily.

He thinks, in a sense, he'd been happy.

(Shido's smirk of satisfaction, that sigh. Fingers plaited together as he leaned back in his leather chair.

"There you go.")

He remembers Wakaba with her cheeks cut from her shattered glasses, a leg broken the wrong way, third-degree burns all along her side that glimmer from the flames in blood. She's reaching out to him, only to smile.

 _"Thank you,"_ she said, for an effort that meant nothing.

Akechi breaks the lock of the balcony door, opening it wide. Stagnant air billows out until pressure equalises and he's there, staring past curtains to the intact interior of Shido's office. Bookshelves line the walls, his floor to ceiling windows are right next to him, overlooking empty wasteland.

Really, wasn't this the most logical decision if he wished to change the future? Why hadn't he done this before?

There's a quiet hum of mourning that comes from Morrigan's resolute figure in his mind.

Wakaba's blood is still flaking off his hands.

And Akechi laughs at the irony of a killer trying to stain themselves white. It never works, does it? In all stories, killers will always have to repay their karma in the end. 

"I'm already a murderer," Akechi says, and steps into the darkness of the apartment.

It only takes a few steps. Then he's there, behind Shido's large leather seat, still slanted in the direction of the fire. He cocks the gun and raises it right where he knows Shido's head would be. Two inches up, a steady hand, and it'll go straight from the back of his head through his brain.

One second. All it takes.

He pulls out his phone, unlocking it. Right when his thumb is going to tap the app, he hears a voice he has long unheard.

Robin Hood's gentle rumble. He only says one word.

_Hope._

And Akechi freezes.  


* * *

  
Akechi later finds himself laying on one of the couches in the foyer. Shido hasn't bugged the actual building itself yet, and Akechi is too tired to deal with the acting he knows he must do the moment he enters his home.

It's two in the morning, and it's completely dark save for the moonlight shining through the double glass doors. It casts a pearly white shine on everything it touches, and Akechi dips his fingertips on the strand that reaches closest to him. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can see tiny effervescent dust motes floating, and he makes a small game of twisting his fingers slowly to catch them. They sit, glimmering against the whorls of his fingers.

There's a small toilet on the first floor which he had taken advantage of, and most of the dust, smoke and blood that was clinging to his skin has been wiped off. His burnt coat lies next to him, Wakaba's laptop and phone wrapped in it.

His silence lasts until grey dawn light weakens the darkness, and a lone figure unlocks the doorway.

"Oh, is someone there?" Saito's surprised voice rings softly around the foyer. She switches on the dim lights, eyes immediately taking in Akechi's form on the couch.

He knows what he looks like, but Akechi is too tired to care if she starts viewing him as a delinquent or not. He's prepared for questions and harsh words – the private schools that use Saito's building have strict regulations – and he's about to heave himself out and salvage his image later when the tips of Saito's cloth shoes enter his vision.

He slowly looks up, only to see a warm, sympathetic smile on her face.

"It looks like you had a terrible night, dear," she says, standing close but not impolitely so. She bows her hunched shoulders a little, and it's a common tactic Akechi knows to use, to make herself seem smaller. Less intimidating. "I don't want to assume, but would you like to join me for a cup of tea?"

Akechi blinks in confusion.

"I was gifted a box of _tie guan yin_ tea the other week, and it's still unopened," Saito continues, smile undeterred. "I make a good cup of tea if I do say so myself. Although it might be a bit strong for the morning…" She trails off with faint concern in her face before it spreads back into a wide smile when she sees Akechi nod. "Wonderful, Akechi-kun! Do you wish for me to bring you a cup here? You're welcome in my office if you want to find a space a bit more private. I can also help you up to your room and leave a cup there. I truly don't mind."

"…Your office would be appreciated, Saito-san."

"My office it is. Wait a second, I have to unlock it."

She slowly putters off and unlocks her office, the snick of the door unlocking oddly sharp in the air between them. Saito opens the door and waves him in, and Akechi forces his creaking body to follow her. The laptop and phone wrapped in his burnt and bloodied coat is left unquestioned by Saito when he places it on her table corner.

In a few minutes, he finds himself seated, a cup of warm tea in his hands. A rich aroma fills the room, and the sharp taste of the tea shocks Akechi awake.

"There are milder versions," Saito is explaining as she gingerly manoeuvres herself into her own chair, settling down, "but I like brewing it strong. An old habit of mine," she chuckles, looking truly unperturbed as she doesn't draw her blinds up as she usually does, only twisting the rod so they can see out the slats without anyone looking in.

"Are you not going to ask any questions, Saito-san?" Akechi asks, mind clearer after sipping half a cup. The little old woman in front of him has found a pair of knitting needles and a ball of bright red yarn, already casting it on.

"Only unless you want me to, Akechi-kun," Saito replies amiably, purling her second row. Her fingers fly fast, and Akechi watches as the second row is quickly completed, and she begins the third one. "I've never been one to push," she laughs.

"Would you mind a sensitive question?"

"Of course not, Akechi-kun," she says, smile sincere. "Ask away."

"Saito-san, do you think that some people deserve death?"

Akechi hadn't inserted any particular tone of concern or inquisitive energy into it. His voice is bland, and that may be why it takes a few seconds for Saito to fully register the question. Her knitting pauses as she looks up at Akechi before she looks down again.

"Oh my, Akechi-kun. That is quite a question so early in the morning," Saito replies, tone still as warm as before. "There are many horrible people out there, and as much as I've seen, I bet there are worse… Hmm."

"As much as you've seen?" Akechi repeats.

"If you don't mind an old woman's tales," Saito laughs, "I used to be a social worker before I retired, specifically in child protection. You see quite a bit in a field like that," she continues with an edge of sorrow as her fingers continue to fly, completing another row in a few seconds. "We fail many of our young, whether it be because of personal failing, social pressure, or otherwise. I was a social worker for many years, and now I volunteer at the hospital at the informational centre to help spread awareness of what you can do if you're abused, or if you're in trouble. While I'm there, I like giving out some of the toys I knit to any family who wants them. I've gotten better over the years," she looks down at her knitting fondly.

"That's admirable, Saito-san," Akechi says. There's something unassuming in Saito's demeanour that had the unconscious tension that had been haunting him throughout the night to fade a little, and he drinks another mouthful of hot tea. It slides down his throat to sit warm in his stomach, and Akechi's beginning to realise how unkempt he still is.

He picks at the dried blood under his nails as he continues to listen.

"I've seen enough smart boys and girls to know euphemisms will never be enough for you, Akechi-kun." Saito says. "So I'll tell you something a little shocking to many who know me. It occurs a lot less, now that I'm old, but sometimes I still stumble on cases that make me horrified. A nine-year-old boy standing up to his father to protect his little sister, only to have his skull fractured and be never able to study again. A foster father who could only watch the child he loves going back to an abusive household because they want to use him for benefits…"

She trails off, taking a sip of her own tea. "Akechi-kun, I'm only saying this because I think you're the type to appreciate complete honesty." Saito pauses, selecting an ocean blue yarn to add to her knit, comparing the two colours together before nodding and meeting Akechi's eyes. "Personally, I see many people I think would be better off dead."

"…That does surprise me, Saito-san," Akechi replies. She looks like any genial grandma he's ever seen. It's also not the most socially acceptable answer in the world, and Saito laughs in her creaky, airy way, wisps of white hair catching the golden sunlight that started to creep through the edges of the room.

"I haven't finished yet. Those are just my personal feelings, Akechi-kun. However, from a societal point of view, I wish the opposite. Akechi-kun, won't you agree that the both of us are human?"

"Of course," Akechi replies, and Saito nods.

"Don't all humans make mistakes?"

"…Yes."

"In Japan, we're proud of being a civilised people," Saito says, putting down her knitting when she notices that Akechi's cup is empty and pours him another cup. The scent of Chinese tea once again fills the room, and Saito takes a deep breath in with a satisfied sigh. "Civilisation is just another fancy way of saying _'we've learnt how to live with each other'._ As a society, we've grown laws and regulations that are there to help stop us from committing mistakes that'll hurt the people around us. No matter how hard we try to be, we aren't islands, Akechi-kun."

"Yes," Akechi murmurs, thinking of the envy that he'd watched Akira, the epicentre of the laughs, jibes, and jokes of the Phantom Thieves. "No matter how hard you try, people inherently wish to belong."

"We all crave for somewhere to belong," Saito agrees, eyes sympathetic. "And there are many in the world who would take advantage of that. Gangs, delinquents, families… It falls to us, ordinary people like you and me, to uphold a society where people are comfortable to belong to, doesn't it?"

For some reason, that question, asked in such a soothing manner. There's something overwhelming there, that Akechi has never heard in his life. Outcasts, all of them – a side thought to society, never enough to overcome the prejudices that came with tags like _orphan, homeless, poor, bastard._

"That's why although I may sometimes think very unsavoury things about certain people, I don't want them to happen. I'm a human, and I have biases. I make mistakes, and I don't understand many things. I have beliefs, but these beliefs may not necessarily be right for everyone, for every time. I don't want to live in a society where life and death are handed out by the sole judgment of someone like me, no matter how personal or hurt I am."

Akechi cannot find enough of himself to meet Saito's eyes.

"Not many people can have that strength, Saito-san."

Saito hums in front of him. He hears the slight clicking of her knitting needles again, and Akechi observes the ripples in the teacup he's holding. "When I was your age, I didn't have it either," Saito replies, calming. "See how long-winded my response was? That's probably how many years it took for me to find my answer. I look forward to what yours will become in the future," she says with a slight air of cheer.

"Saito-san," Akechi finds himself saying after he finishes his second cup of tea. "I nearly lost someone last night, and I nearly… I'm not…"

Dozens of families, disbelieving, teary-eyed.

_"Thank you for investigating the mental shut-downs, Akechi-kun."_

_"You won't let Itsumi be forgotten, right?"_

_"You're the only one truly investigating the cases. Thank you, Akechi-kun. Thank you…"_

Saito adjusts the small spectacles on her face, and for the first time she pointedly takes in the picture Akechi represents. The bloodied clothing, the jacket wrapped around something unknown, Akechi's own dishevelment. Then she leans forward.

"Akechi-kun, no matter what you were, what I've been seeing for the past few months is a pleasant boy who greets his classmates every morning with a smile. He's a scholarship student from a prestigious private school with glowing recommendations from his teachers. Akechi-kun, no matter what you saw yesterday, no matter what anyone tells you, if you want to change, you _can_. One of the greatest beauties of humanity is their capacity for change."

Saito blinks before she puts a hand over her mouth to hide laughter. "That's another thing, isn't it? No matter what I think about a person, who am I to deny them a chance to change later on in their life?"

Another conversation, a similar conclusion.

_Change._

Akira flashes into his mind, and Akechi can't help but cover his eyes with an empty laugh.

"Do you think I can change, Saito-san?"

Her answer is immediate.

"Of course you can, Akechi-kun. And if I'm surmising correctly, you," she says with infinite kindness, "already have."

Akechi sits there for a while longer before he presses his sleeve more heavily on his eyes. Once he's sure he's more presentable, he looks straight at Saito.

"Saito-san, you're delivering toys and goods to the hospital today, right? Would you allow me to help after I refresh myself a little?"

"Oh, you don't need to, Akechi-kun!"

"No, it's my pleasure," Akechi insists. It's the weekend anyway, and when Saito is reminded of the date, she accepts his offer with a helpless smile. Akechi quickly collects his jacket and Wakaba's computer, heading up to his room. The curtains are drawn tightly shut when he stows the computer and phone under his mattress, and he takes a quick shower before changing his clothes.

With his hair brushed, clothing ironed and immaculate, he feels a lot more like himself. Heading back downstairs, his smile is back in place when he greets a few early risers going out for a morning jog.

Saito is there, a heavy bag in hand like he'd observed she was prone to do every weekend, and Akechi smoothly takes it from her.

"Before we leave, Akechi-kun," Saito says as they head out the doorway together into the morning sunlight. "I just wanted to say you're always welcome for a tea and a chat."

Akechi can't help but laugh disbelievingly. Not many people would enjoy being sprung with a debate on the _worth of life_ by an emotionally unstable teenager at five in the morning, but Saito bears it with her kind smile.

"Really," she insists, a hint of stubbornness in her expression.

Akechi hesitates, before nodding.

The world freezes.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Sun** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

The bond settles warmly as they head down the street together, Saito filling the air with benign chatter, occasionally interrupted by greeting other stall-holders and elderly out appreciating the morning.

Akechi breathes in. The smell of something frying, the sweet smell of bread from the bakery around the corner. Coffee wafts from somewhere, and joggers occasionally pass by them in various states of fitness.

And the world goes on.  


* * *

  
Akechi properly boots up Wakaba's computer when he gets back, having dumped his clothing into the washer for now.

Ignoring any blatantly personal files, he goes through the research, folder by folder.

Wakaba had known far more than he anticipated. Even before Mementos, she had been sending papers, theories, research on subconscious events, Palaces, cognitive distortions, Shadows, ways to blur the line between reality and the Other Side…

After he had started diving with her, her research volume had only increased exponentially. The volume of it all – edited, unedited, still unsent or not, was frankly a little terrifying.

Even though she had always presented herself as casual and unassuming, she truly was a genius.

Akechi clicked through it all, noting which papers she had sent to Shido, what critical information he had to get right when he pauses.

Right at the end. A folder only recently made.

[SNEK-BOI RESEARCH]

He clicks on it, and there's only one pdf file inside. When he opens it, the first page is a greeting.

  


_Well, started making this after I realised people were after my life. I've deleted all other traces of this file anywhere else, so don't worry about this being public info, Goro. Sorry for being stupid and not believing you before – I might have given way more information to Shido than you might have wanted him to know. Sorry. You'll know what I gave him – it's right here on this laptop. If you're reading this, it probably means I didn't delete this message before I gave this file to you… which probably means I'm gone. Whoops. Uh, sorry about that._

_Edit: man this message sucks letters are hard. this is why my japanese teacher hated me right_

_Edit: IM SO SLEEP DEPRIVED AAAAAAAAA_

_Edit: OMFG I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT IM A GENIUS_

  


When he scrolls down the next page, he finds the formula for COMA AGENT and REAWAKENING AGENT. Next to each agent are the chemical names, the normal name, a few suppliers that provide it, and strangely enough, a picture of the bottle.

But that's not all.

There's SLEEPING AGENT (normal), HEALING AGENT (for deep wounds), HEALING AGENT (coagulant), POISON (kinda i mean shadows look woozy when i chuck it at them), and a few other things he's seen Wakaba using here and there, like LIGHT GRENADE (one use) and FREEZING AGENT (description below). The list continues with things he can see will become useful as Akechi keeps scrolling, where at the very end there's another note.

  


_So if I'm dead dead, then you probably have to buy them yourself. Some of them are pretty expensive, but the suppliers I listed are fair, and they're usually quite discreet. Shido doesn't seem the type to care about lowly suppliers so they should be safe, right?_

_Otherwise, if I'm not dead dead, like coma dead, or brain dead, I've already said in my will that I'm to be kept on life support even if I have no chance of recovery. You wanna know why?_

_Type my name in the Mementos App and visit my Shadow's room! You'll get it. Take it as a really expensive gift. I have no idea who is a sellout in my lab nowadays, so I'm just gonna give it to you. You're a smart guy, you know what to do. If you've done all the mysterious everythings you needed to do and I'm still a vegetable, tell Futaba to let me go._

_Okay. Cool. Dealio._

_Stay safe, kiddo._

_otherwise, if I'm alive make a note to delete this cos this is embarrassing dear lord_

  


There's nothing else in his schedule for now except for some catch-up work for Atsuzawa and some general homework he can do any time for the next week. After immediately backing up the pdf file into a personal USB, he finishes his laundry before entering Mementos. He wanders down the wide tunnels to Wakaba's room. 

There, Wakaba's Shadow. She's lying in the middle of the room, fainted. Its outline is wavering but still clinging on, and Akechi sweeps his eyes to the side. 

Set next to a wall to the left are three extendable tables already folded out. One holds stacks of coloured, labelled bottles, the second a rather sophisticated chemistry set with instructions on the side, and the third table held all kinds of miscellaneous tools, for measurement or otherwise. There's a chair and a bright lamp that's connected to a generator next to it, and Akechi stands in front of the tables struggling to _comprehend_. 

It's high enough in Mementos that he has never seen the Reaper. Having access to different powers, being able to heal himself (no matter how limited), being able to replenish the drugs that he is using to trick Shido in secret is absolutely game-changing. 

He goes to Wakaba's Shadow who is still lying awkwardly on the floor and carefully straightens her out, lying her down on her back, hands to her side. As a finishing touch, Akechi carefully places the glasses that had fallen onto the floor back onto the Shadow's face. 

He hopes she wakes up soon. There are still many things that he wants to say to her. 

**Wakaba Ishikki – Fortune Rank 10**

  


* * *

  


As much as he wishes to monitor the situation, he doesn't know where Wakaba's body is. He's visited hospitals as discreetly as he could, but either Wakaba has died (which she hasn't – her Shadow is still there, asleep), or Minato's group has whisked her somewhere so safe he has no access to. 

The most concerning thing is that he tried to find Futaba Ishikki at Wakaba's old residence – a modern apartment in a middle-class neighbourhood – and found no-one. 

Futaba is not at Sojiro Sakura's residence, nor is she at LeBlanc. He only sees Sojiro Sakura with a grieved look on his face, having closed the café for a few days after Wakaba's tragedy. 

Futaba Sakura's profile flashes through his mind. After killing Wakaba Ishikki, Futaba Sakura had been passed through a few uncaring relatives before landing in Youji Ishikki's hands. There, she had been abused and neglected until Sojiro Sakura noticed the issue and forced the transfer of her custody. However, she had already developed enough psychological guilt and trauma that stopped her from realising the theft of her mother's research and certain belongings in time to do any effective measure to track them down. 

He's already subtly warned Wakaba about her brother Youji before. Wakaba had said she wrote that Futaba would go straight to Sojiro Sakura in the event something happened. 

What happened? 

It's almost a relief by the end of the week when Shido summons Akechi to an elegant traditional Japanese restaurant, having obviously just finished an important meeting. He's loosening his tie as Akechi sits politely in _seiza_ in front of him, the table between them being cleared by efficient waitresses. The moment the paper door slides shut is the moment where Shido's frown is directed at him. 

"You did what I asked?" Shido asks roughly, tone impatient. Akechi nods. 

"Yes, Shido-san. I've verified that Wakaba Ishikki's Shadow is still holding on, even if she's not awakened yet." 

"Not awakened from her coma yet," Shido replies, low. "Then where is she?" 

"Your guess is as good as mine," Akechi replies as he connects at least one unanswered question. 

To erase Wakaba so completely only means Minato's friends found the cause to do so. Shido hadn't stopped trying to kill her – but now seeing even Shido had lost track of her, she must be safe. He's honestly relieved. 

"May I ask what you're going to do next regarding Wakaba Ishikki, Shido-san? Is there anything I can help with, barring reports upon the state of Ishikki's Shadow?" 

Shido looks at him from the corner of his eye as he hums, drawing his brows together. 

"Have an uncommon interest in this case, Akechi?" 

Akechi curls his lips into the friendliest smile he has, replying seriously. "Of course, Shido-san. Having more Metaverse research in your hands means we can progress our experimentation faster, right?" 

"Heh," Shido smirks. "I guess it does no harm to tell you what we're going to do next. We already have a statement from a doctor saying she's incapacitated long-term. I've bought her lawyer off years ago, and he's successfully convinced one of Ishikki's witnesses to look over certain things we've changed in her will for benefits of his own. We'll do the will reading tomorrow with the witness that's on our side, claiming the other witness missed the call to be there." 

Wakaba's two witnesses – Sojiro and one of the researchers in her lab. Her lawyer, Shido's agent since years ago. 

No wonder they had the power to change her will. 

Akechi puts a hand to his chin in thought, frowning, pretending that he was pondering over a question. 

"Doesn't Ishikki-san have a daughter? I would've thought most of her will would be dedicated to her." 

Shido smiles. "It's fine. We've gotten her out of the way for the time being." 

Akechi pauses, before pasting an ingratiating smile on his face. 

"Shido-san, your preparations hold a strong combination of foresight and careful planning. It is as impressive as ever."

The flattery obviously works, as Shido's expression lightens a little into smugness. A few more tasks later, Akechi quietly retreats out of the room, putting on his shoes as he steps back into the corridor. 

The next day, he begs Naho to teach him how to use the civilian databases. 

He notes down as many of Wakaba's extended family as he can. 

  


* * *

  


It is his fourth try, and he's in a shadier neighbourhood than he expected. It's after dinner time, and the apartments are bright with people commencing their nightly activities as they wound down from the day. Akechi has to be super careful as he phases into the Real World by a fire-escape well-hidden by shadow. 

The first thing he notices is yelling. Through the window, he sees the back of a mature woman who is flailing her arms angrily. Pressing his ear to the window, he can hear the words. 

"How dare you, you smart-mouthed brat! You don't get to eat dinner with us today. Go to your room! No wonder your ma always complained about what a pain you were whenever we met…" 

"My mom would NEVER SAY THAT, _TAKE THAT BACK!"_

There's the sound of a slap, and he sees a flash of Futaba Ishikki's long orange hair. 

He's found her. 

The woman in front of Futaba continues her yelling. "You don't get breakfast either, for that! Your selfish mother didn't even think about giving any of her riches to us in her will, so remember that I'm not getting paid to take care of you! Go to your room!" 

There's the sound of stomping feet before the room next to him fills with light followed by a loud door slam. 

"I hate them _so much!_ Ugh, I didn't get money from them to buy lunch either… I'm so hungry…" 

There are sounds of tears, and Akechi finds that he's clenching his fists hard. His fingernails are digging indents into his palms, and he slowly relaxes the clench of them. He's worn a black hoodie for his investigations for Futaba, something that he would never wear for his Shido persona. With a brief glance downwards, he musses his hair further, slouching like he never would. Then he nimbly jumps down and heads to the nearest convenience store. 

__

__

He phases into the Metaverse for the act of climbing the fire-escape. There's only a certain section that's in shadow, and that's where he phases back out. His promise to Wakaba is ringing in his ears when he gently places the plastic bag on Futaba's small windowsill, giving the window a quick rap before swinging down the fire escape as discreetly as he could. 

By the time he reaches a large dumpster, a figure disturbs the small square of light as Futaba's head pokes out the window, her face holding a large red mark. She squints around in suspicion until she sees the small bag of food on the corner of her windowsill. 

She tentatively takes it with a confused frown, and Akechi is satisfied, taking his leave. He has homework to catch up with still, and Atsuzawa was going to come back from his trip to Yamaguchi soon. There is much he needs to do, and he adds Futaba Ishikki onto that list. 

By the looks of it, he'll have to check in regularly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo!  
> Dude, guys, wow, so many comments! And kudos! Thank you! Thank you so much! I love reading reviews XD I'm glad you guys liked it. (also 2 people pointed out Arisato is Minato's last name, and omg, I've had it wrong all these years aaah)  
> Aigis will be coming back with an update next chapter, but this is ultimately a P5 fic. However! She is still here, and she is frustrated, haha.  
> Futaba arrives too, something I've been anticipating. I'm glad to enter another P5 character, finally. :D  
> I'm actually really excited I can finally add Saito to his Confidants link too. hehe. Someone in the comments called me out early, so I'm happy to finally reach here!  
> Thank you for your support, I hope all the down-action in this chapter is interesting. At least, I hope it isn't boring, ey.  
> See you next week!  
> (its nearly the end of the month omg)


	14. Chapter 14

To say that she has been sitting vigilantly by the woman's bedside would be an understatement if you asked any of the doctors and nurses in the luxurious private hospital. The pair stood out – a heavily-injured Japanese woman with abnormal injuries and the young foreign girl that attended her. Soft blonde hair and clear blue eyes that were set in a beautiful face were an exoticism rarely seen, let alone the perfect Japanese that she spoke in a gentle voice.

"Does she eat?" One of the nurses' whispers in the break room. "Did she move from that spot since our last shift?"

"She definitely has, right? Or she'd be starving," replies her friend, whose eyes were glued to her phone, trying to catch up to a drama that she hadn't had time to watch lately. "And stop talking about them already, didn't the Head Nurse already warn you once not to gossip? They're VVIPs."

"Alright, alright," the first grumbles as she attends to her own sandwich, scrolling through entertainment news.

They had appeared a week ago and gone straight into intensive care, a team of specialist doctors buzzing in and out of the room while the Head Nurse cracked down on any rumours with an especially heavy hand. The only constant had been the faintly smiling teenager to the side who had insisted on never being separated from the patient, calm, firm, and strangely authoritative.

When the nurse finishes break and do her rounds again, she tries not to shiver when the girl turns her gentle smile on her.

"Is everything under control?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, Momoda-san is as stable as ever, Aigis-san."

"That's good," Aigis smiles in reply, a perfect curve. In the smile is an inexplicable alien feeling, as there were no wrinkles, no flaws, no quirks at all. Kindness in perfect symmetry.

The nurse manages a smile and scuttles away, and Aigis pays her no mind as she lets her smile fade. Her eyes rested on the figure on the bed in front of her.

Black hair with a hint of dark green in its reflective sheen, figure diminished by the white bedding and the machines hooked up to her. Wires twist out in various coils and spirals that lead to graphics that Aigis quickly learnt how to read. Once any number was even a point decimal out of the standard deviations that Aigis had set up, she would press a button that would have a doctor come running.

Wakaba Ishikki presented a conundrum.

No doubt she had been scouted as part of Kirijo's decades' long research ventures into the metacognitive possibilities when she was a graduate. Even after a decade, with Ishikki separating herself to start her own research centre, Kirijo had still flagged her name as a person of interest. 

Once Mitsuru had taken over Kirijo – as much as she was able to, as even Mitsuru was locked out of Kirijo's darkest secrets – the original SEES had unanimously agreed to dedicate funds to a research team dedicated to reaching the Sea of Souls.

It's been seven years since then. Seven whole years. The research team discovered many secrets that bore no relation to reaching Minato at all. Generous funding, the top minds of the country, and not a shadow of the boy they all wished to see again.

Then the email that night, diverted straight to Aigis's inbox…

Wakaba Ishikki had not been in explicit contact with Kirijo Group for many years. Once she started her independent research, she had been inundated with offers for funding that even extended to the government. Her research quickly became confidential. Other than conferences, academic discussions and a healthy respect for one another, the two labs rarely intersected. That's why her emailed report had been such a surprise.

Agent XX2134, a mysterious drug that no-one in Ishikki's laboratory had heard of.

Reports of secretive and paranoid behaviour by Ishikki before the laboratory attack.

The report sent after the lab explosion like a call for help, and the multiple assassination attempts Aigis defended Ishikki from.

The _'consenting test subject'_ who took Agent XX2134 was likely the one who contacted Minato, learnt about SEES and sent the report to them in a bid to save Ishikki's life. To be used like this is a minor matter - Aigis will gladly do so until they track down where this _'test subject'_ was.

Not only did he meet Minato, but this 'test subject' is also the most likely candidate to hold all the research relating to Agent XX2134.

It's inexpressibly happy news, though knowing a stranger has met Minato before she did fills her with a burst of jealousy. It's a system log that she calmly accepts as she pulls out the memories and images she holds in her memory. Recordings play in her mind, watching the slight tilt of his smile whenever he saw the group laughing together, his patience with her when they went out on their outings. Their first meeting on the pier, his face surprised. His calm voice as he voiced out orders in Tartarus. The image of his back, always standing in front to protect them all.

If they found him… what would she even say?

_I'm so happy to meet you after so long. I've searched for you all these years…_

Minato cherished the friends that had helped him open up after a life haunted by death and tragedy. Aigis thinks of how empty the Sea of Souls was, the cold and the dark when they stepped away from the golden door that Minato was chained to, with his bowed head and blank eyes. Aigis replays that memory sometimes, when she is recharging and everyone she knows is quiet. She wants to trace that face and ask,

_Have you been lonely?_

She wants to say, _I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you._

Sadness and determination are familiar emotions to her now. She breathes deeply past the system logs, training her eyes on the beeping heart monitor.

Although Minato's memories bring sadness, she is also grateful that Minato was still such a constant in her thoughts. Aigis sees it sometimes, in Yukari, in Junpei, as they grew and blossomed into the people they are now. They have put Minato behind.

It isn't that they don't care, Aigis knows. Minato is an irreplaceable part of their past. If Aigis or Mitsuru ever called for help to save him, they would gladly drop anything they're doing to help. They use Minato's sacrifice as their conviction to greet each morning with determination, to strive to always be the best they can be. And Aigis cannot deny that they have become great people, always living to inspire and create joy in the lives of others.

They were unlike Aigis, who is ultimately unchanging.

Perhaps it is the fault of her programming, of her wish and her goals. But every time she sees something beautiful, something new, she thinks _'Minato would like this'._ Every time a new lifestyle fad or technological advancement came, she researched it to see how she could introduce it to him. Many things have changed since 2009, and she didn't want Minato to struggle or feel overwhelmed. Throughout the years, she has picked up hundreds upon hundreds of research papers that are carefully filed in her databases, so that ignorance can never be a valid excuse for failing to reach him.

In many ways, she has grown. Perhaps, she has even changed. But in others…

Mitsuru offered to upgrade her face and body to an adult version a few years back. There's a new body waiting in the labs the moment she decides she wants to change it.

But she doesn't want to. Not yet.

She does not want him to be lonely, after all.

"Aigis-san," a doctor steps in politely, a report in hand. Aigis stands up to receive her.

"Doctor," she bows. "What's the news?"

Aigis listens to the report with the utmost concentration, hiding any emotional reaction until the end. Receiving the report and allowing the doctor to return to her duties, Aigis takes out her phone. It connects quickly, and the no-nonsense tone of her friend on the other end disregards greetings to get straight to the point.

_"What do you have for me, Aigis?"_

"Ishikki-san will need to be kept under for three months, Mitsuru-senpai," Aigis replies, settling back into her chair. "Her head injury is more severe than expected – they'll assess every week whether her induced coma needs to continue, but they say it's better safe than sorry to prevent her brain from swelling."

There's a sigh on the other end. _"So we'll need to wait until around New Year then,"_ Mitsuru replies through a slight breeze that muffles her voice. She was in negotiations after all, in America, planning to catch up with Akihiko on the way back. Aigis would have joined them if the emergency hadn't kept her back. _"Any luck finding the person who contacted us?"_

"No, Mitsuru-senpai," Aigis says softly, tone strained with a little frustration. "I've scanned all footage available on the evening, and agents have asked around the neighbourhood for any accounts. Interviewing the laboratory members have only revealed that Ishikki-san was increasingly secretive as time went on, taking her equipment on frequent trips out the lab."

_"Calm down, Aigis. There are definitely leads somewhere. Someone that night definitely saw who pulled Wakaba Ishikki from the laboratory. Even if we fail to track them down, waiting for Ishikki to wake up will also provide us with answers. We just need to persevere. I'll come back in ten days. Aigis, can I count on you until then?"_

"Of course, Mitsuru-senpai. Please have a pleasant meeting with Akihiko-senpai."

There's a laugh. _"Akihiko will be thrilled to hear this news, and I will be glad to share it. Maybe it will be enough for him to return to Japan for a time."_

"That will be our hope," Aigis replies warmly. "I'll contact you immediately if there are any changes."

_"Goodbye, Aigis."_

The call cuts, Mitsuru as efficient as always, and Aigis continues to access the reports that her agents have been sending back to her. There is nothing new – none of them has found where Wakaba's missing equipment and research is. Tracking her previous movements have been surprisingly difficult. She paused on a particular line.

[…initial signs point towards the Government as the most likely faction directing the assassinations against Ishikki-san.]

Aigis grows solemn when she reads the line. Governments were always tricky beasts to manoeuvre, with large, well-backed players and deep history. As a corporation, Kirijo had to be doubly careful dealing with government issues, just in case they breach federal law. This is not news that Mitsuru would enjoy hearing.

The large television in the room she had turned on to pretend she was occupied switches to the news, blue light washing through the room. The news announcer has a large smile on her face as she shuffles the notes on her table.

_"And onto other news, politician Masayoshi Shido has declared he's officially instated as one of the prime candidates running for Prime Minister in the next election, a choice made with great support from his party. In his speech, he has promised that he focus will not change, looking to improve welfare and tackling the issue of Japan's aging population…"_

  


* * *

  


_Family_ wasn't Akechi's topic of choice, generally speaking. Let alone the common varieties of pity and sudden awkwardness that ensued whenever Akechi admitted he was brought up in an orphanage, adults have ignored him often enough after learning his mother was a prostitute for him to quickly learn what people sought in conversation wasn't _truth_. They sought common experiences that people can connect with, and family was apparently one of the easy foundations that everyone was supposed to implicitly understand. In the past, he had quickly learnt to lie when it didn't matter.

Mother? Of course he had one, she was an office worker who often travelled abroad. Father? Well, you know how corporate life is, he tries his best for the family. Siblings?

At that question, Akechi would bring a hand to his chin, thinking back to his mother and the pills she would never skimp on even when they were living off two-week-old vegetables. His mother, obsessed with birth control.

"No, I'm an only child," he would laugh, and that would usually invite any half of the group who had siblings to mockingly groan.

"You're lucky," they'd say.

That was the general theme, Akechi found. Siblings were usually referred in varieties of "I love them, but _you know,_ " accompanied by an eye-roll or an exasperated laugh. Akechi never really knew, but he'd nod and laugh alongside the rest of the others anyway. 

"If you had a sibling, who would you want?" A whimsical girl had asked him once, eyes resting on the drifting clouds. Her voice was wistful when she continued. "I don't have one, but I want an older brother who cares for me and isn't gross and yucky." Akechi, sitting next to her and freshly twelve, had refrained from frankly shooting her down with a _'that's impossible, you idiot'._

"I don't really know," Akechi had replied instead, before going back to carefully colour his picture.

It still holds true now.

 _Family._ What is it, anyway? Solidarity? Obligation?

There was a case once, that he had been merely assisting with. It was an inheritance case gone to court, Sae frowning as she directed the proceedings carefully as this was a high-profile case. It was a messy affair – a wealthy father, and the uncertain details in his will as to who would get a vast resort. Despite reports of the two sisters grown up close, the police had to be called after reports of assault, where the two of them had mutually scratched and punched each other after a violent argument. Akechi tended the scene as Sae's replacement, watching the drama with detached eyes. It was obvious that one of the sisters had been more broken up about it than the other.

"We're _family_ ," one had cried. The other spat at her feet.

"You wouldn't be trying to rob me if we're truly family," the other hissed.

In truth, that's all sentiment boils to, really. He has watched too many families break down at the mere mention of money, loyalty flown to the wind at a whisper of personal benefits. Venturing down into Mementos, Akechi would pass rooms of Shadows, bemoaning their family members, wishing they were better, more understanding, less embarassing...

Perhaps he would end his musings on siblings and family here, if it wasnt for another encounter that had stuck with him, all these years. It was an old memory. Much, much older.

In the second week of being shoved into his first orphanage, he remembered he had been roomed with fifteen other children. In the bunk next to his were a pair of siblings, a boy and a girl. Every night when the light switched off, the boy would immediately climb up the bunk bed to curl up alongside his little sister and stay there until morning, where he would swing back down again.

A few days later, the brother started a fight.

"No!" He'd yelled, swinging his fists against the caretaker, who had an annoyed expression on her face, trying to twist his body out of her hold. "Hana! Where are you taking Hana!"

"This is why that foster parent didn't choose to take you too," the caretaker grumbled, hauling him up and smacking him. "Stop being violent and _listen for once._ Your sister is going to a better place. You should be happy for her."

Out the window where Akechi was sitting, he saw a car and a couple that was pulling a little girl away. _"Sen nii-chan,"_ he heard, warped from tears before the door slammed shut behind her. The foster parents drove off, and all the sound that was left was the brother's continued tantrum.

The brother hadn't given up. He was hauled back by policemen time and time again for escaping the premises, he broke into the head caretaker's office countless times to try and find where they had placed his little sister.

Once, when Akechi was locked in the punishment room with him and staring in the darkness was getting too boring, he'd asked:

"Why do you keep trying?"

The brother, the hot-headed type that Akechi usually disliked associating with, had replied with a derisive " _Huuuuh?_ What're you talking about?"

"The escaping thing," Akechi replied, matter-of-fact. "Your efforts have been going nowhere for weeks. What you're doing is pointless."

The boy sniffed. "Reaching Hana isn't pointless! I made a promise to her," he had replied, voice bright and loud in the dark room. "That I'll always be there for her when she's scared! If I don't keep that promise, who's gonna?"

Akechi turned his head to examine the profile of the boy next to him, scruffy short hair, bitten nails and all. The other boy didn't seem to mind that Akechi was studying him like an especially interesting bug because he didn't stop talking.

"Hana is three years younger than me," the brother told Akechi in the tiny punishment room, elbows sometimes missing Akechi's nose by a few millimetres as he enthusiastically swung them around. "She's scared of a lotta things. I used to tease her a lot. Like, who's scared of the dark, and bugs, and swimming, and heights, and ghosts? That's basically _everything_. But since mama died, we're all we have left, so I chase ghosts away with my Sen Ghost-buster Punch! I squish bugs with my foot, and I walk close to the edge when we cross bridges." In a quieter voice, he added, "Hana has a lot of nightmares, you know? How… how is she sleeping without me there?"

Akechi absorbed this as he stared at the seam of the window, where a tiny ray of sunlight sometimes shone through.

"Did you know the office is unlocked when the caretaker is with a foster parent?" Akechi says. "I'm joining a group of other kids to get interviewed at noon tomorrow. You weren't selected, were you? Miturashi-san doesn't like you enough to let them meet you."

Akechi feels the boy's gaze on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around his knees to protect himself from it, interlocking his fingers.

"Meetings usually last an hour," he adds.

The other boy's growing smile is obvious. "You're Akechi, right? Thanks! Wanna play a clapping game?"

Akechi didn't particularly want to, but he played it anyway until they were finally let out of the room for dinner. He never knew what happened to Sen. He had been selected the next day, selected by his first foster parent, who had threatened him to get perfect marks in every subject for the sake of her reputation.

_'We're all we have left.'_

The bloodied cheek of the sister through tears. _'We're family.'_

Wakaba's last request. _'Take care of Futaba?'_

As Akechi smoothly goes down the math questions on his worksheet, listening to the teacher drone on about derivatives, he hums.

What strange sentiments to think about now.

  


* * *

  


Its late night when he sneaks out again in his black hoodie, climbing the fire-escape and shifting into reality. There's no-one around, the only witness an old dog through an open window across the way, lazy enough to open an eye before it lays its head back onto its paws to fall asleep on the cool tile of a bathroom. When he reaches Futaba's floor, he's amused to see that Futaba has placed last night's plastic bag on the windowsill with all of yesterday's trash tied tightly inside. He obligingly takes it and replaces it with the new bag he'd bought tonight instead.

Akechi doesn't know how much Futaba usually eats, nor does he know how much food Futaba's family had given her for the day, so he decided to play it safe.

Were six onigiri and two dinner sets too much?

The bag needs to be balanced more carefully than last time as it's much heftier. When he knocks the window this time, he immediately hears faint footsteps rushing to the window. This time, he barely clears the fire-escape before needing to flatten himself to the wall before the window flings open.

"Hah! Reveal yourself…? Wait, they're already gone? What?"

The shadow of Futaba's head twists to the left and right, trying its best to scan the area while Akechi stealthily taps the Metaverse app in his hand. When all the lights on the street blink out, he takes the steps back up two at a time to see if Futaba Ishikki has been pulled in with him.

The room he peers into is empty, and Akechi blinks.

No, apparently not. Perhaps Futaba can only be pulled in by Akira?

Akechi shrugs, chucking the bag of trash into a half-crumbled garbage bin on the wayside before entering Mementos.

Morrigan's suit of armour moulds onto his body when he sees the first shambling Shadow. He doesn't even need to try anymore – Morrigan's armour is sharp in unexpected places, and a pointed kick to a Shadow's chest or head allows him to lodge the tip of his sharpened sabatons straight into their body. Usually, he would use momentum to slam the Shadow into the floor and finish them there if their figure isn't too big. If they are big, he would wrench his foot out of their flank and rip Morrigan's mask off while dodging their retaliating attack. An _Eigaon_ usually finishes the trick, and the Shadow dissolves into the air.

It has become routine now, to clear out the levels of Mementos he can reach without being the Detective Prince. Morrigan is much stronger, and it's honestly great stress relief. He's worked up a pleasant amount of fatigue when he enters Wakaba's room.

Akechi has managed to set up something more comfortable in here. A folding screen separates a small section of the room where he's laid Wakaba's Shadow down on a sheet and he sits down in front of the workbench ready to try a new compound.

Stirring fifty ml of water and mixing some potassium into it to start, Akechi allows himself to think about his promise as he carefully measures out the ratios in Wakaba's instructions for more volatile chemicals. Beakers are bubbling soon enough, and he's settling back with a cup of tea. His eyes wander to the folding screen hiding Wakaba's Shadow.

Before he has fully confirmed the status of both Futaba and Sojiro in the eyes of Shido, he isn't going to risk any action yet.

Last time, Shido had used more energy than necessary to crush Futaba Sakura. With his knowledge of Shido, it's probably because of sheer pettiness.

Wakaba Ishikki, in his previous life, had tried to use her knowledge to take him down. That sort of rebellious action would be unforgivable in Shido's eyes, but since she's dead, there's no one to vent that anger upon… except for her existing family.

Seeing Wakaba's daughter suffer probably gave Shido his poetic justice.

It's not as if Wakaba had angered him any less this time around with Akechi's intervention, so he's given himself a week, until the next time Shido contacts him. In their next exchange, Akechi is going to ascertain the situation – and if he can, alert Sojiro Sakura about Futaba's current situation.

A week is not a short amount of time, but he can support Futaba until then. Futaba's current caretaker is not Youji Ishikki – it's a nondescript aunt. It was not until Youji that Futaba experienced abuse more than neglect.

They can hang on for that much time.

  


* * *

  


It's sheer coincidence that Akechi manages to listen into a conversation about Futaba. During their meeting, a man politely knocks on the door of Shido's room, opening it before pausing.

"My apologies, Shido-san. I will come back when you're not occupied."

"No, come in," Shido dismisses, waving a man with black hair and nondescript features inside. "This is Goro Akechi, someone involved in the Ishikki operation. Akechi, this is Fusa, one of my professional agents checking in on the situation. Report, Fusa."

Fusa and Akechi exchange nods and Akechi calmly listens as the agent reports what he was doing. Stealing the rest of Wakaba Ishikki's research is going smoothly, Fusa says. The traitor in Wakaba's lab has convinced the others that it's okay to sell Wakaba's research since they have been convinced that she's going to be out of commission for a very long time. The only one who protested – her research assistant – has been removed of his position and dismissed.

"Otherwise, one of her witnesses complained that he wasn't at the will reading, but he has been shut down by the lawyer."

Shido is smiling at the end.

"So the only other person who has claim is her daughter," Shido leans back in his chair. "Has the daughter shown any signs of knowing any secrets that her mother might have told her? Has she been interested in getting her mother's assets or belongings?"

Akechi pretends to look through the lists that Shido gave him, ears open as he hears Fusa's reply.

"No. Under the care of her uncle and aunt, she seems to have stopped going to school and has not been seen for the past week. Additionally, her uncle and aunt are only interested in assets that have liquidity and have not expressed any interest or thought about Ishikki's research. They do not seem to listen to the daughter's requests for her mother's keepsakes."

"Good," Shido smiles. "Wakaba Ishikki is still out there somewhere. Maybe seeing her daughter suffer will lure her out a little more quickly. Keep monitoring her and the rest of them for the next few weeks. Make sure there are no changes until our operation is finished and we've covered our tracks."

"Yes, Shido-san."

Akechi passes the list to Shido. "Please don't stop on my account," his expression professional, smile benign. "I know what to do, so I'll take my leave, Shido-san." Pivoting on his heel and giving a polite bow to Fusa, he steps out.

He manages to stop by Yongen-Jaya on his way back to the dorm, winding his way through the aged street to Café Leblanc. Unsurprisingly, although other small shops and businesses were still open, the sign on the door was flipped to 'closed'.

The smell of steam filled the street as a bunch of old men stepped out of the bath-house, filling the street with uproarious laughter as Akechi politely stepped to the side, considering.

In the short-term, Futaba would definitely be safer with Sojiro Sakura. However, Sojiro wouldn't stop Futaba in investigating Wakaba's death, another avenue of danger he wants to avoid.

In the long-term, Futaba's custody would be safer if she was transferred after the 'few weeks' Shido needs to finish whatever operation he was planning with Wakaba's research and assets.

Akechi looked up into the night sky and sighed.

Yes, he can probably manage for a few weeks.

  


* * *

  


In the next two weeks, it's with a sense of rising horror and disgust at exactly _how quickly_ things escalate.

By the time he handed in his history assignment on the first Friday of October, the first aunt had already kicked out Futaba to another address. It was good that Akechi even remembered her name, _Maki Ishikki_ , because Naho had already been suspicious enough the first time he was taking so many notes searching the civilian databases.

In the depths of Mementos, too close to the seal barring the rest of the way, Maki Ishikki's Shadow prowled around a minuscule room, baring her teeth the moment Akechi raced inside.

"Another person looking to look down on me?" She hissed, before shaking her head and curling in on herself. "Poor me, poor me, poor me, stop looking at me like, like I'm less than you, I was forced to cheat, don't you see? He was always away, and I was so, so lonely."

"Forget that," Akechi snaps, standing in front of her. "Where's Futaba?"

"Lonely," the Shadow ignores him, yellow eyes darting around as she hugged herself tighter. "It's Autumn, it's cold… His eyes are so cold now, and he doesn't give me money anymore… How am I supposed to hold my head high next to my neighbours now?"

"Where is Futaba?" He repeats, temper already lost, fingers tracing the blades of Morrigan's mask.

"That girl," Maki mumbled, "smart-mouthed like Wakaba. Always looking down on us, that woman. She didn't even go to her mother's funeral, she declines to pay for our family meals even though she earns the most out of all of us. Had to teach her bastard brat a lesson. Even I had a proper family—"

Akechi pulls off his mask.

"Morrigan," his command cold. _"Hell Fang."_

Morrigan bursts out with vicious glee, already halfway through swinging her silver sword downwards as the Shadow doesn't even have a chance to transform, her face tanking the hit as she's flung straight into the wall. Akechi doesn't even bother hiding the satisfaction he feels as he strides forward, watching as she writhes in pain. Her hands fly to her face in horror.

"My face! My beautiful face! How can I get my husband to stay now?"

Akechi bends down, smile stretched wide. The quivering Shadow scrambles back in horror.

"My most sincere apologies, Ishikki-san," Akechi says, voice low. "You were in the middle of answering my question, weren't you? Please continue."

"Th-that abandoned brat? What's so special about her anyway—"

"Wrong answer."

The next Hell Fang has Maki Ishikki's Shadow blurring at the edges, and Akechi easily dismisses it. He knows, after all, just how long a Shadow can last under torture.

"Well?" He taps a playful finger to his chin while he trained his eyes on her, unblinking. "Where is she?"

The Shadow shudders in fear, before rattling an address all the way up Asakusa, and Akechi frowns. That isn't a distance he could easily run to.

"Couldn't even get enough money out of her," the Shadow mumbles, resorting to hugging herself and rocking back and forth. "Poor me, poor me, poor me, can't even buy that dress in store…"

Akechi leaves her to it, already calculating how often he could arrive at Asakusa naturally.

Perhaps, he narrows his eyes, not enough.

  


* * *

  


"Gotcha!"

There's a small hand that whips forward at the moment he tries to hook the bag onto the fire escape, and Akechi only manages to snatch his hand back barely in time as Futaba Ishikki half dives out of her open window. She manages to catch herself just barely, and Akechi manages to hide the half-aborted step forward to catch her.

Thankfully, it seems she's not athletic enough to wrestle herself up onto the fire-escape just because she can reach the corner.

When he's blindsided instead by a phone light in his face, Akechi is suddenly very thankful he wore a black facemask and had his hoodie pulled up. It's not as if he hasn't noticed the sneaky phone placements the past couple of days he could come the past week, and he immediately shifts his body posture – slouched, tensed, ready to run.

"No, no! Don't go!" Futaba pleads as he takes a step backwards. "I don't know who you are, but I just wanted to thank you!" Her long orange hair is too greasy again, black roots showing. The brief glimpse of the room beyond shows that this new uncle had taken away even her futon. The room is smaller than his own dorm room. She's sleeping on a half-folded blanket in the corner, obviously not allowed to shower.

So against his better judgment, Akechi stops and waves a hand for her to take the bag, gesturing her to look inside it.

"Dry shampoo?" Futaba exclaims happily, before digging through the rest. "You got me sweets and disposable spoons and stuff too! I really liked that curry rice last time."

Akechi gives her a jerky nod before he starts to move backwards again, and Futaba immediately flings the bag onto the floor behind her and lunges forward again. This time, she's nearly all out, only balanced by her legs still inside the room and the arm resting on the fire-escape. "Don't leave yet, I'm not finished!" She demands, and Akechi sighs.

Being careful to keep his head turned to the side, he carefully takes Futaba's wrists (too _thin_ ) and pushes her back into the room, before shaking her pathetically weak grip off.

There's a stubborn frown on her face when he steps back, and Akechi can't help but sigh again.

Perhaps this was somewhat inevitable, if this were to be their status quo for the next few weeks.

He holds up his phone, and unlocks it, before holding it up. Futaba squints against the light until she sees what he's pointing to.

"I built that app!" Is Futaba's first response, before she's scrambling backwards, probably to get her phone that she's just threw backwards.

Akechi takes the opportunity to run.

He doesn't get to run very far before his phone is ringing with nonstop notifications, and it's with a little bit of dread that he looks down and sees the scrolling messages that are firing nonstop. On the subway home, he manages to catch a seat and finally check what Futaba is sending.

[MadPscientist: I built this app for my mom, and her accounts have always been easy to hack]

[MadPscientist: You're literally the only person on her contact list]

[MadPscientist: It must be you! Mwehehe, now you can't escape.]

[MadPscientist: Wait a second I can probably do this can't I?]

[MadPscientist: I totally added this function, wait a sec.]

There's literally a timestamp of two seconds before MadPscientist added a friend into the chat, and kicked herself out.

[HoneyOTU: Typing as my mom feels… strange. So I'm going to do this instead!]

[HoneyOTU: Hello, mysterious stranger-kun, who is also obviously called GA! Thanks for the food, btw.]

[HoneyOTU: Wow, GA. Are those your initials?]

[HoneyOTU: Your naming sense is kinda boring, huh.]

[HoneyOTU: I'm not saying you're strange or anything tho.]

[HoneyOTU: Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I have overcome my misgivings about how you might be a mysterious serial killer after you gave me pudding.]

[HoneyOTU: I'm not saying serial killers don't enjoy pudding, because I'm sure some do but that doesn't mean I think you're a serial killer]

[HoneyOTU: Oh no, I'm totally ruining this, aren't I? D:]

This is where the messages stop, and Akechi honestly debates a minute before he hesitantly taps on the chatbox.

[GA: Hello.]

[HoneyOTU: !]

[HoneyOTU: Hello, mom's uber mysterious friend! She mentioned you before, you know.]

[HoneyOTU: Like, not explicitly, but I picked it up when I was eavesdropping when she talked with Sojiro.]

[HoneyOTU: Mom is, I mean, she was pretty protective of me so she didn't like telling me a lot of stuff.]

Akechi reads the message, before creasing his brows in confusion. 

[GA: Why are you referring to your mother in past tense?]

[HoneyOTU: …What do you mean]

[HoneyOTU: Mom is dead.]

[GA: No. Wakaba Ishikki, your mother and my associate, is still alive.]

[GA: Where did you hear that information?]

Those messages are marked as 'Read' without reply long enough that Akechi has enough time to get off the station and sneak back to his dorm room. It's only when he's arrived safely back into his room with the curtains drawn when her reply comes.

[HoneyOTU: If this is a joke, it's not funny.]

[GA: I am not joking. Wakaba Ishikki does not have a death certificate, and her will was only read because she has slipped into a coma. A clause in her will states that in any chance she is out of commission for more than a few weeks to start enacting her will.]

[GA: I cannot provide evidence you can't find yourself, Futaba Ishikki.]

[GA: Your mother boasted to me of your digital prowess.]

[GA: Do you need a more powerful device than your phone to access these documents I mentioned?]

[HoneyOTU: No. brb.]

It hasn't even been fifteen minutes – barely enough time for him to take a quick shower and tuck himself into bed – when Futaba replies back.

[HoneyOTU: …You're right. There's no death certificate. Everything's just marked extended absence. Is that why everyone stopped me from going to her funeral?]

[HoneyOTU: And wtf, why is she marked under a confidential file, and under that as a missing person?]

[HoneyOTU: Who are you? If you don't reply now, I'm going to hack your phone camera and your location before getting into your network and steal everything embarrassing you saved on your computer and post it all online.]

[HoneyOTU: Just see if I don't.]

[GA: Your mother assured me that this app was completely safe from even your attempts at hacking.]

[GA: But I digress. Futaba Ishikki, your mother researched for many powerful figures. One of them wished to use her research for unsavoury deeds and plotted to take her life and steal her research. We were working together to try and prevent that from happening.]

[GA: This all culminated on the 19th last month, where her laboratory caught on fire. It was not a gas leak – it was a deliberately set attack. Although I managed to save her life and send her someplace safe to recuperate, she is still comatose. You can blame me if you wish, Futaba Ishikki, since I have also given up on saving her research from her assassinator.]

There's a pause. Akechi holds the phone tightly in his hands. It seems like the Ishikki's always made him gamble, somehow. For this is what he is doing – gambling.

[HoneyOTU: Where's mom?]

[HoneyOTU: Bring me to her.]

[GA: My apologies, Futaba Ishikki. I cannot do that.]

[HoneyOTU: Why? Are you lying to me when you say you sent her somewhere safe?]

[GA: I sent her to the safest place I know, surrounded by people I explicitly trust. The issue is that even I do not know where she is being held.]

[HoneyOTU: What]

[GA: It is safer I do not know, Futaba Ishikki. I am a direct subordinate of the man who ordered your mother's execution.]

For the next few hours that Akechi blearily keeps awake, Futaba Ishikki does not answer.

  


* * *

  


The next evening, Akechi is exhausted as he collects the rubbish and hangs another bag onto the fire escape. This time, he isn't surprised at all when the window slides open and a girl's head sticks through.

This time, Futaba is not all smiles. Her own eyes have dark circles under them. Somewhere, a dog howls to the night, as the brisk autumn wind blows between them both. Akechi meets Futaba's eyes, face still under his black face mask, hair still under his hoodie.

"GA, is what you said last night true?" Futaba asks dully, and Akechi puts down the bag of trash and takes out his phone.

[GA: Yes.]

Futaba glances down at her phone and looks up. "If you're my mom's friend, why are you working for the bad guy that killed her?"

She's raised her voice a little, and Akechi first puts his index finger in front of his mouth, before sitting down. His back is to the wall, one leg folded with the other flat. He can still see Futaba, at the edge of his vision, while he types.

[GA: You assume I work for him willingly.]

Futaba squints down at her own phone, scowling.

"Who is this guy, anyway?"

Akechi side-eyes Futaba, orange-black hair and the determined knit of her eyebrows. Stubborn. She's also a little more aggressive than the Futaba Sakura he knew, and Akechi isn't sure whether to pin that on youth or how in this timeline, she wasn't a direct witness to her mother's death.

[GA: I may tell you later. Not now.]

"Why?!" Futaba bursts out, and Akechi once again places an index finger on his masked lips.

_Quiet._

Only when Futaba has stopped fidgeting does he tap his response.

[GA: We are being watched.]

Futaba's eyes grow comically wide when she reads his response, as she immediately shrinks her neck back and sinks herself underneath the level of the windowsill until only her eyes show. Akechi watches this with a bit of wry amusement – Wakaba and Futaba have surprisingly similar personalities. It seems like their penchant towards dramatic reactions were similar at least, as Futaba squinted warily around just like Wakaba's very first trip into Mementos.

[GA: Not now. I try my best to make sure of that, though the fewer witnesses the better. So please stay quiet. But we are indeed being watched. They try to keep me under surveillance as much as possible, as I am his subordinate. But now that he is still in the process of extracting Wakaba Ishikki's research and trying to find missing parts, he is also monitoring the situation of those close to her.]

[GA: The only two people I am concerned about on this list is you, Futaba Ishikki, and Sojiro Sakura.]

"Sojiro too?" Mumbles Futaba as she cautiously flops her head onto the windowsill, looking at Akechi's form on the side. He makes sure to tug his black hoodie over his head again just in case, before tapping his reply.

[GA: Sojiro Sakura was a government worker before he was a café owner. You are her daughter. It is understandable that since he is struggling to find parts of Wakaba's research he is watching signs whether anyone close to her holds key information.]

[GA: I was going to watch and wait until his operation is over, before alerting Sojiro Sakura to your current situation and whereabouts. That is the safest way so that his attention does not turn to the both of you. Wakaba Ishikki had originally placed you under his care before his agents forced the two of you apart for his own purposes. I will see her will is done.]

Futaba reads this while chewing her lip. "So you and mom were close?"

Their Arcana hums warm in the back of his mind as he replies.

[GA: In a sense.]

"Is that why you're taking care of me?"

[GA: I made her a promise that I am ill keeping. I apologise.]

Futaba sighs, blowing a few strands of her too-long bangs out of her face. "I guess it's okay. You're saying that you and she both worked under an evil boss, and you were too under-levelled to save her, right? Now you work in the shadows to protect her last wishes while waiting for her to recover... You know, you live a dramatic life, GA."

They sit there in silence for a while, before the cool breeze makes Futaba shiver a little and Akechi stands up. From there, he can see into Futaba's room again – a tiny hole of a room, the nest of blankets in the corner. This time, he unhooks the bag of groceries from the fire escape and extends it to her.

[GA: I'm sorry for making you suffer under this abuse and not contacting Sojiro Sakura immediately. Please know I will act as soon as I believe it's safe.]

"…I'll forgive you for that later," Futaba replies. "It's not as if I contacted Sojiro either. I still have my phone, don't I? It's just that…" Her lip wobbles a bit as she stares at her phone. "I'm scared."

Futaba's thin hands clutch her phone, and Akechi catches the fine tremor of them that was absent during their discussion.

That's right, Akechi realises. Futaba Ishikki had extreme social anxiety that had been present even before her mother's traumatic death. Although he and Wakaba's efforts have removed the direct trauma of her death, Futaba has sustained continued emotional and physical abuse for the past two weeks under her relatives.

She had been talking to him so naturally that he had forgotten.

[GA: He will never turn you away.]

Futaba doesn't look at him, eyes on her screen. "I know," she says, but refrains from speaking further. Akechi has to leave – he's already lingered too long. Futaba seems to sense that as he shifts away, looking up at him. "You do know I'm going to search for mom as long as I have my phone right?"

[GA: Yes.]

"And no matter what you say," Futaba's voice is a small, hard thing, her usual childish tone absent. "I'll still be searching for that guy you two were working for."

He's not as apprehensive as he was about Futaba investigating her mother's death as he was before. It has been two whole weeks, and Minato's friends have undoubtedly pulled Kirijo's best resources into investigating Wakaba's incident. If a multinational company with a large budget and the most talented minds in the world couldn't pin down Shido, then no matter how genius Futaba Ishikki is, Akechi is at least assured she will struggle.

Especially if all she has is her phone.

[GA: I won't stop you.]

The two of them look at each other before Futaba turns away to snuffle a sneeze on her thin shirt.

"Go, go, I'm sure you want to. Bring me curry next time! Those ones with the heating packs inside them, okay?" She demands petulantly, and Akechi nods before leaving.

  


* * *

  


Next week, on an evening where Futaba had tear tracks on her face and too many dirty tissues in the plastic bag she shoves at Akechi as trash, Akechi thinks, before silently typing a question.

"You _liar_ ," Futaba gasps. "Yellow is the best Featherman to go with Black!"

[GA: As a Featherman Origins fan, I am more than convinced that Blue and Black have great chemistry, romantic or not.]

Futaba blows a raspberry at him. "Of course _you_ like Blue since he has that secretive spy double-agent shtick going on. I bet you're one of those fans who cite Black's unwavering belief in Blue as why they're great together, right?"

[GA: I greatly admire Black. He's a steadfast leader, loyal, charismatic, and trustworthy. He was the only person who persuaded Blue to share his secrets.]

Futaba violently rolls her eyes. "Ugh, Black being the perfect leader is why _Yellow_ is the best character to ship with him! Black is so charismatic and cool, but he needs someone to rely on too! Yellow has been with him thick and thin. Black smiles only five times in the whole show, and three of them are because of Yellow!"

She pounds her fists against the windowsill for emphasis. "Yellow isn't just his true love, they're soulmates in every way!"

She says this so loudly that they both freeze, as a man's heavy fist knocks on Futaba's door. The voice is slightly slurred.

"Who're you talking to?"

"Myself!" Futaba manages to reply, her voice a high squeak of nervousness. It's such a fast face-heel turn from their energetic debating that Akechi is taken-aback. "I was t-talking to myself!"

"Fuckin' weirdo," the man replies before those footsteps shuffle away and Futaba breathes out a sigh of shaky relief. Akechi stands, a still shadow at her windowsill, face blank.

[GA: Does he bother you in any excessive way?]

Akechi types a little sharper than usual, and Futaba shakes her head. "He doesn't even come in here, usually. I think if I didn't step out of the room to go to the toilet, he'd even forget I was living here."

Akechi stands there, and sees the black hair roots she hates, the shirt she has worn for the past two weeks, the sallowness of her cheeks.

It's never the right time – Shido hasn't given up on searching for Wakaba's secret research that he _knows_ exists. Even if Shido's interest in Futaba's reports is fading, he is absolutely _meticulous_. There is a reason why he rose to power so quickly. Shido's eye for detail is not something he wishes to test.

Was it time?

Will it ever be time?

Akechi feels a familiar sense of self-loathing when all he does is hold up his phone.

[GA: Returning to my previous argument, I feel like Yellow has a shallower character development than Blue in regards to relationship progression with Black.]

It's obvious all thoughts immediately fly out of Futaba's head as she puffs up in indignation, slapping the windowsill again.

"GA, take that back! Or, or I'll post all the embarrassing selfies that I know exist on your phone onto every porn site I get my hands on!"

Akechi can't help the wry twist of amusement he feels as he replies.

[GA: Your threats are ineffective when I know you cannot breach your own security.]

"Fine, okay. But that doesn't mean you insult _Yellow_!"

  


* * *

  


"I found her," Futaba says, a few days later when Autumn has truly set upon them with its chill. Spitting out her hair comically when an especially strong gust of wind blew across them, she makes a face when the breeze doesn't stop. "She was under a fake name, but I hacked their security feed. It's mom. You were right."

That night, Akechi had missed out on dinner too. They were both unwrapping onigiri together. Futaba had ordered Mentaiko onigiri, but she was just dangling it in her hand while Akechi wolfed down his umeboshi onigiri. Akechi made sure to swallow and pull up his mask before facing her. Futaba is looking at him curiously, brown eyes wide in a thin face

"Are you sure you don't want to know where she is? I'm honestly surprised she's kept in such a fancy place."

Akechi shakes his head in negative, and Futaba takes a lazy bite of her onigiri.

"You weren't lying to me this whole time. I genuinely… I thought maybe you were just trying to trick me, but to know that mom isn't dead and that it's everyone else that's tricking me… It makes me mad."

Futaba chews angrily, before stuffing the whole onigiri in her mouth with a ferocious frown. It makes her cheeks bulge out as she tried to put her thoughts into words, before one large swallow later she's left gasping.

"W-water…"

Akechi soundlessly hands a water bottle over, and Futaba gulps it down before finishing with a burp of satisfaction.

"S-so, anyway, I just wanted to officially say I believe you now! I haven't had much headway for that secret boss behind you, but you told me mom was alive. That's… you've given me hope back." Futaba looks honestly uncomfortable, but she ploughs on anyway. Her shoulders are up to her ears. "Thank you, GA."

Akechi stays silent.

[GA: There's nothing that you should thank me for.]

"Ugh, stop that! I told you I can contact Sojiro anytime too, right? I just, just don't! Because I'm a coward! A-and Sojiro hasn't tried to call me even once. W-what if all he misses is mom? What if he's forgotten me?"

[GA: That will never happen.]

Sojiro Sakura had been as dedicated a father as he could've been and had suffered from months of regret from not rescuing Futaba sooner from her relatives. Akechi honestly doubts that he's changed.

"I, I know this is the anxiety talking," Futaba replies miserably, letting her head droop on the windowsill again. "You know, I'm glad I have you, GA." Akechi tilts his head for Futaba to continue, and Futaba stares up at the tall apartment buildings across the way, built so close together no moonlight could beam through. "You're kind of like Blue, all mysterious and sly but actually they're really nice when you get through it all."

[GA: I thought you hate Blue.]

"I don't hate anything in Featherman!" Futaba pouted. "Blue has his strong points too! Just not paired with Black! A-anyway, I was trying to say that… You obviously don't wear all black like this on a normal day, so this is kinda like Featherman suiting up, right? So you're Blue, and you've suited up to do your mission which is to bail me out when it's safe, and after you've bailed me out I can join up with you to bash the evil mastermind. I'll be Green, since he's the smart one, and…"

Futaba trails off, eyes slid to the side.

It's an offer as much as a promise, but it's not something Akechi knows he can keep. The stability of his daily life is not guaranteed, and once Futaba Ishikki transforms into Futaba Sakura, she would be better off paired with Akira and the Phantom Thieves.

As the silence stretches too long, Futaba has fully wilted. She has her arms hung over the window ledge, phone tightly held in her hand.

Brown eyes, just like his own.

Akechi has tried hard not to think about it these past few weeks, but it's hard when Futaba Ishikki had a laugh like a gasping seal and threw wrappers at his head when she's angry. The thought that they will never reconcile their differences over Blue and Yellow makes him inextricably want to report to Wakaba, in Mementos.

_Your daughter thinks I have a bad taste in characters._

_I think we're becoming friends._

He can see Wakaba laughing already, a gleeful _told you so_ on her tongue. Smugness, he retorts to her image, becomes no-one.

His thumb moves slowly.

[GA: I thought you would want to be Yellow instead.]

Futaba reads the message before a small urchin's grin stretches her across face.

"Mwehehe, I want to be friends with Yellow, not become him!"

The moment stretches.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Hermit** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Akechi greets this with no grandiose sense of pride that his gamble has paid off. This Arcana had come with much more investment than he had originally planned.

Akechi looks up when his Hermit Arcana scratches her head, yawning.

"I don't usually sleep much, but I'm getting sleepy now. G'night, GA."

[GA: Goodnight, Futaba.]

  


* * *

  


The next morning dawns without a message from Futaba. Sometimes it happens, as Futaba is an oddly heavy sleeper, and Akechi pays it no mind.

He smiles through the school day, laughing politely when a teacher makes an off-colour joke about a woman's place in society, politely holding open the door for the class monitor to come in when his arms are full with papers. He tutors his classmates before greeting a frazzled Naho, who promises that Atsuzawa is finally coming back with a new lead this weekend and he can do more than just keeping on top of their paperwork soon.

They drink coffee together as the sun dips beneath the horizon, and Akechi starts his nightly routine after finishing his homework.

A trip through the Metaverse later, he freezes when he realises that the small window that held Futaba's room has the blinds down and the window locked. It's too dark to try and peer through into the room, and even when he does, there's no movement from the other side.

This time he doesn't hesitate. He melts through Mementos, facing off against a Shadow who is drunk even in his deepest subconscious.

This time it's relatively easy.

"Yeah," the Shadow says, lying down indolently on the floor. "Youji came back from his trip and demanded that I give that girl to her. I mean, she didn't even do anything, you know? I kind of forgot that she even existed. So I was like, yeah, just take her if you want. Youji lives in…" The Shadow scrunches his nose, before yawning out an address. "Will you leave me be now?" The Shadow yawns and Akechi doesn't waste more time with him.

Youji Ishikki.

Akechi steps out of the room back into the tunnels of Mementos, watching the red veins, tracing the crumble of the concrete.

Perhaps this was also a flaw in his past life.

Waiting, waiting. Always waiting for the right moment. He could've killed Shido so many times in his first life, but it had never been enough.

 _Shido doesn't care enough yet,_ he would think. _He won't regret. He needs to feel pain, he needs to feel betrayed. My revenge won't succeed this way._

Now here he is again, waiting, waiting. Always waiting.

Akechi had set a few hard limits for Futaba's situation. The appearance of Youji Ishikki was one of them. Futaba was not going to spend any length of time under his care... even if he had to bear the consequences.

 **Self-sacrifice is only a foolish notion for the unprepared,** Morrigan soothes as Akechi walks back towards the nearest exit.

 _I'm not sacrificing anything,_ he replies to Morrigan. _It's just that I may not be able to fulfil that promise._

 _But that's alright,_ he continues, thinking of brown eyes. _I'm a liar, after all._

  


* * *

  


The next morning, he clogs his toilet before he greets Saito at the door.

The old woman is surprised at his abrupt appearance before her, though her greeting is genuine.

"Akechi-kun! Good morning!"

"Good morning to you too, Saito-san. I was wondering if I could ask you for details about that plumber you mentioned before?"

"Plumbing problems?" Saito says with sympathy. "I don't know why it's happening so frequently nowadays. Want to come into my office while I find the details?"

"Thank you, Saito-san," he says, following her inside. Once the door closes behind him, he drops his pretences. "Actually, Saito-san, may I ask you for another favour? You used to be a social worker, correct?"

Saito pauses to look at Akechi properly, which is when Akechi gives her his most hopeless smile, allowing some stress to show through his body language. As expected, her wrinkled face slowly sinks into a look of concern. "Do you know someone who can help a child get out of an abusive situation to a foster parent I know will accept her with open arms? It needs to be in a completely anonymous way. Please."

Saito's eyes grow serious.

"Of course I do, Akechi-kun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, dear reader who said Akechi didn't realise Futaba was his sister - he totally did!  
> The lawyer didn't show Wakaba that he changed her will. Wakaba may have been checking all her details while suspecting everyone, and as a true neutral, hacked into her lawyer's computer to check stuff and found out lol.  
> Someone predicted that the app comes into play and yup! It did! Man, people are really too good at predicting things.  
> Thank you all for loving Saito, because I love her too. She has a lot of good values in her, and she's willing to share that all the time.  
> Otherwise, thank you for all the support and kindness. I was, no, I'm still really moved. Thank you. Stay strong everyone. I hope this chapter is ok. Let's all enjoy Persona 5 Royal together on Tuesday. It's definitely something I've been looking forward to for a long time! ^^ My apologies for any typos, I'll edit it again soon.


	15. Chapter 15

Akechi leaves Saito with a list of numbers and names in his hand, detailed advice ringing in his ears, and he's politely thanking her for the plumbing help as he leaves the office. Saito's eyes are less amused even as she plays along – but her smile is genuine enough when she finishes their conversation with an offer.

"If you need any more help, I'll be here." She tucks her hands into her sleeves, dressed today in a long shirt and warm vest to keep out the chill. "Anytime," she insists. It's a pleasant enough offer, and Akechi looks back at her weathered kindness, finger tracing the information that she gave him. He wonders if she has ever been betrayed.

At her age, definitely.

It's a dark, niggling thought that always appears whenever Akechi interacts with kind people. It had been easy enough, after all, to weed out the people who had approached him because of his fame, prospects, or as plants of Shido. _I wonder what they'll say if I visit them in Mementos,_ Akechi would think, and most of the time his slight expectations would be crushed. Too many knew the power that kindness had when wielded as a tool, and Akechi had responded in kind.

However, those people had never been his Arcana.

His Arcana, filled with people like Minato, Akira, Atsuzawa and Wakaba…

And Shido.

"Oh, thank you for your offer, Saito-san," Akechi smiles, tilting slightly into a bow. "I will take that into consideration."

He turns on his heel and goes back up to his dorm room, preparing for school. It's times like these that Akechi realises what a hindrance school is – the Detective Prince title was more than just a show. It had the practical worth of allowing him to go to places he would normally be unable to reach, a valid reason why he could cut schedules short. It was a topic that came up often during the trips he had been able to join the Phantom Thieves, sitting quietly at the back of the van doing the work he was supposed to be doing on his phone.

"God," Sakamoto would commonly groan, slumping over the seat in front of him, "we have _school_ again tomorrow. I didn't even study. Why do we have to go again?"

Niijima would straighten up then, a sharp frown on her face. "Ryuji, didn't you promise that you'll keep your grades up? Exams are coming up soon. You understand that even with our Phantom Thief duties, our grades are important for our future?"

"Urrrghh," Sakamoto would reply, mumbling something under his breath, and Akechi would analyse their dynamics while trying to stomach Akira's erratic driving.

Come to think of it, perhaps that's the only thing he had noted Akira was horrendous at.

Exiting his room, Akechi smiles at one of his fellow dorm-mates as they also leave their room, but walking away before they finish locking it. School is the same. It's easy to deflect others when he dons a serious honour-student demeanour, excusing himself to go to the library during lunchtime, leaving school early citing that he wished to study. Calling sick to his internship to a concerned Naho, he returns to his dorm to greet the plumber who unclogs his toilet for him.

It's early afternoon, by the looks of things. More than enough time.

Entering the Metaverse and stepping out of his dorm building is like a breath of fresh air. The roiling red clouds in the sky look as angry as ever as Akechi strolls down the street, typing the first name that Saito had on her list of active social workers that she trusts.

Going down the nearest subway station, he visits the five names that Saito recommended.

Takawa-san, a middle-aged woman who was bemoaning her bills and rent.

Kanai-san, a young worker who started social work a few years ago demoralised about the system.

Mabuchi-san, an old man who wished to retire as soon as possible as he felt disconnected from his current workspace.

Furuki-san, another middle-aged woman who was outspoken about her own family troubles.

And Hatori-san, a young man who recently suffered the death of his mother.

Akechi shoots a Shadow in the face while he thinks, absent-mindedly ignoring its pleas to let it go as he shoots it again. He walks past its remains when he spots that it dropped nothing.

The thing about curing Shadows in Mementos is that some problems are reoccurring even after cognitive 'treatment'. For example, just because Akechi may beat down Takawa's Shadow and make it rejoin her real self didn't mean that her financial situation would change. Many times, a person's psychological Shadow comes not only from themselves but from the environment around them. In a few months, Takawa's Shadow would most likely reappear again, even more bitter than before as her optimism and new outlook doesn't change a thing about her inability to pay rent.

Furthermore, Mementos had another problem. Bashing someone's Shadow cures the _current_ issue the Shadow had.

If Akechi beat Hatori's Shadow into submission, the man would wake up the next day feeling refreshed and reconciled with his mother's death, greeting the day with a new smile and perspective on life. Nothing else about his character would have changed.

So understanding these things, Akechi decisively crosses out Takawa, Mabuchi and Furuki.

Mabuchi was an old man who wished to retire because of age and social disconnection. Issues like that were hard to truly uproot, and Akechi wanted someone who could fully dedicate themselves to Futaba's case.

Therefore, Furuki was out too. Familial troubles strong enough to manifest in Mementos were tricky matters that most likely detract from the quality of her work. Not that there aren't people who can compartmentalise, but there was no need to risk Futaba being handed off to someone else because Furuki wished to attend other matters for the day.

And, Akechi thinks as he examined his gun and sniped another Shadow, the moment he heard the word 'money' from Takawa's mouth, he dismissed her entirely.

Greed and ethics were merely an opposing spectrum, after all, and Shido was a master at dangling bait.

That left two people – Kanai, a young woman who muttered her disappointment at how the system was forcing her to leave her wards behind even when they still needed her, and Hatori, with the dead mother.

The dead mother could be a benefit. Futaba lost her mother too, and this may make Hatori more invested in her case. On the other hand, his grief might affect his work. If Akechi solved the grief in Hatori's Shadow, then there was no added bonus to Futaba's case, which made him a mediocre choice.

That left Kanai, the young woman.

It could work, Akechi thinks, switching to Robin Hood's white attire. He adjusts his gloves absent-mindedly as he felled a group of Shadows with Megidolaon. If he times it correctly, he can persuade Kanai's Shadow right before she took on Futaba's case. If Akechi framed the Shadow's thoughts in the direction of resisting her industry, for her to insist on protecting her wards despite opposition…

Yes, it can work.  


* * *

  
A brief visit to Kanai's Shadow reveals that she was recently to forced let go a few of her long-time wards because they returned to their original family. To make up the hours, she mans the call centre of her company on Mondays and Thursdays, from 10 AM to 5:30 PM. Although she's usually assigned cases by her supervisor, she can also suggest to take on wards if she has the availability.

"Why am I in my job anyway," Kanai moans, arms hanging as she stares at the red lines on the floor in front of her. The Shadow blinks her yellow eyes as large tears rolled off her face and dropped to the ground. "I'm useless. Nagi, Kenta, Ga-chan, they all depended on me to find them good homes and I just gave them back. I'm useless," she sobs, and Akechi quietly steps out of the room to the echo of her crying.

It's rare to find a distortion not based on selfishness, and Akechi is quite satisfied. Saito-san gave him quite a good recommendation, this time.

It's still Wednesday, Akechi emerging in the human bustle of Shibuya. The crossing is filled with people going back home from work, the chatter familiar as he carefully skirts around the usual cultists and reporters that stand near the station. Bad busking fills the air as he slips towards the train-line that led to Youji Ishikki's house.

Winding through streets that become more and more sparse, Akechi is in a middle-class neighbourhood when he stops in front of an average-sized house. It's near-identical to the houses to the left and right of it, it's brick walls stained with dust, paint slightly peeling off the doorway and balcony. Warping into the Metaverse for the actual infiltration, Akechi carefully edges through a broken window into the house before he slips back into reality.

A dimly lit corridor melts in front of him, worn floorboards and cupboards along the walls. Old photos are the only things adorning the wall, all featuring a man that Akechi assumes is Youji Ishikki, smiling as he carries all sorts of trophies. Apparently, Akechi notes as he pads down the hallway, Youji was on a professional swim-team in college, though the photos abruptly stop around a certain age.

Yes, Akechi thinks idly as he opens another door to check inside for Futaba, Wakaba had mentioned that her brother had been addicted to gambling since college. To be kicked out of a professional swim team after being found as a heavy gambler wouldn't be surprising at all.

While Akechi carefully checks doors and slowly goes deeper into the house, it becomes messier and messier. Bills are stacked in a large pile in a study near the back door, both for amenities like electricity and water, but also for debts to various banks and lenders. Bottles fill some corners, long abandoned, alongside beer cans. Dust covers most of his desk, with most of the photos similar to the hallway. A young, successful Youji and nothing else.

His analysis finishes a profile of a gambling addict, living in his past glory and mired in jealousy over the success of his sister. Akechi clicks his tongue and leaves.

Both the upper floor and the lower floor has no sign of Futaba. He did find her phone however, placed carelessly on a small table near a mouldy kitchen. Pots and pans fill the sink, while the counters next to it are filled with old lottery tickets.

Akechi ignores the remnants of a pathetic man as he walks to the last place Futaba can be.

It's easy to pick the lock of the basement.

Futaba is in the corner of the room, curled up in a ball next to storage boxes. Her glasses are nowhere to be seen, and her hair is tangled as she shrinks from the light. She says nothing even as Akechi approaches, only clenching her knees tighter.

His face mask on, a beanie over his hair, Akechi crouches. He puts on his gentlest voice – the ones where he needs to ease out statements from traumatised witnesses. It's a quiet lilt as he crouches a step away from Futaba and stops.

"Futaba, it's GA." Futaba twitches, but she doesn't look up, and Akechi continues. "It's currently five twenty in the afternoon, on the 22nd of October. You have been with Youji Ishikki for two days. I have secured my end of the deal – I'm contacting Sojiro and a social worker I trust by tomorrow, and you will be out by Friday at the latest. Will you forgive me for taking so long?"

Akechi stays crouching there for another minute before he starts shifting away, and an arm immediately darts out to clench his pant leg. The fingers squeeze tight, before letting go in surprise as Futaba finally wrenches her head up.

"G-GA?" Futaba's voice wobbles. "You're not a dream, right?"

"A dream won't be this good looking," Akechi tries for some humour, tone the same as before. Futaba doesn't laugh, her eyes taking in Akechi's masked form, his casual clothes. It's a white shirt and black pants, with an olive-green coat over it all, and Futaba looks over it all with wonder before her tears overflow.

"Take me outta here," Futaba pleads, as she unclenches her hand out of his pants to furiously rub her eyes, digging her face back into her knees. "I h-hate this place. It's dark and cold, and he puts food in a dog bowl, a-and says mean things about mom. He doesn't let me change clothes, and he's really scary when he drinks alcohol a-and, and…"

Futaba trails off into a whimpering sort of silence, and Akechi reaches out a hand to pat her shoulder.

"Alright," Akechi agrees, giving her shoulder another pat before standing up. "Youji Ishikki is currently attending a special event at the casino and is unlikely to return home until late afternoon tomorrow. Even then, he will be drunk and probably plans to neglect you until tomorrow evening. Everything will be settled by then." Akechi pauses, staring at the dog bowl half full with a strange-looking gruel in the corner. "I promise."

Futaba starts bawling, throwing herself onto Akechi's back and hugging him. He freezes – the arms are uncomfortable around his neck, and she smells kind of strange – before taking the opportunity to walk forward, Futaba in tow.

She doesn't resist, letting her feet drag on the floor as Akechi leaves the basement, closing the door behind him, the door automatically locking when it closed properly. He lets Futaba continue to be a strange, sniffling backpack as he goes up the stairs and down the hallway to the backyard entrance, taking the spare set of keys hanging next to the door and exiting carefully.

They're lucky that there's no-one around – a cat standing on the dumpster is their only witness when Akechi opens the small door that leads to a small street. Akechi and Futaba shuffle along, Akechi stealing a large hat hanging to dry on the way to tuck up Futaba's long orange hair.

He's only been in this residential district once, though he does know that there are a few cheap motels just a few roads down. It doesn't take long to get there, Futaba hiding behind him as Akechi charms the receptionist.

"Please forgive me for not taking off my mask," he says deprecatingly. "I'm still recovering from my cold."

"It's alright," the receptionist smiles, pushing forward a form. "Fill in your details here, and I'll take your payment for the night."

Akechi puts a name and address that corresponds with no-one in particular, paying for a double room in cash. The receptionist doesn't look like she cares about the blurry photo of the ID Akechi presents, and they're let into their room with little flair.

It's clean, despite various stains on the carpet, with towels and bathing necessities all provided.

"Take a shower," he gestures to Futaba who had been silent all along, and she nods quietly before scuttling inside, slamming the door behind her.

It's a good time as any to buy some spare clothing, and Akechi leaves a note before hurrying off to the nearest small convenience store.

A few bags of sweet drinks, sandwiches, packed dinners, and a set of plain clothing from a dollar store he passes, he's headed back into the room where Futaba still hasn't finished showering.

"There's new clothing outside the door," he calls loudly before he enters another room to wait, scrolling his phone looking up the laws for child abuse. The bathroom door creeps open only after another fifteen minutes, before quickly slamming shut again as Futaba changed.

"GA?" He hears soon enough, and Akechi walks back to Futaba's room, pointing to the food he's placed on her bed.

"I'm guessing that your piece of trash uncle didn't feed you enough, so I bought food if you're hungry," he says, before taking the remote and switching on the television. He hears plastic rustling as he turns on the channel for children's cartoons, just in time for Phoenix Featherman reruns.

It's cheerful background noise as they eat dinner quietly together, Akechi turned away until he finishes a chicken dinner set and replaced his mask, Futaba decimating the mochi that he bought without stopping. They watch quietly through the triumphant music blaring tinnily out of the cheap television as each of the Feathermen transform. They glitter and whirl as feathers sprout, suits clad on, each taking a solid ten seconds to finish their transformation sequence to strike a dramatic pose together. The group immediately leaps away from one another to defeat the mysterious creature that was locking the land under a mass illusion, wondering why their powers were too weak to do anything.

"I… I like this episode," Akechi finally hears Futaba say, and he refrains from feeling any judgment or hatred for now. He puts that aside to pull on his nicest mask, the thickest one that he uses to face the family members of victims after a crime.

"Me too," he allows the smile to warm his voice. "Pink really shines in this arc, doesn't she?"

"Yeah she does," Futaba replies, voice still tiny. "She kicks ass."

"She is the first one to awaken her second soul after all," Akechi tries to continue the conversation, but Futaba has already gone back to staring at the television screen. Akechi doesn't push, only nudging a packet of chicken closer to her when it seemed like she wanted more food.

"…What's the plan for tomorrow?" Futaba says when the credits start rolling, and Akechi hums along with the Featherman theme as it jingles.

"I will contact Sojiro Sakura tonight," Akechi replies. "To extract you with no complications, I'm going to direct him to a social worker I trust. She will pick up the case, before going towards Youji Ishikki's address. They will arrive around noon – Youji Ishikki should still be out drinking, but he should be back soon. By then, you need to lock yourself back into that room. I will instruct Sojiro Sakura to insist on following Youji Ishikki with the social worker while taking photos. It will be enough evidence to undeniably prove that your current social worker is neglecting their duties, help the case against Youji Ishikki's child abuse that can be tried by law, and allow Sojiro Sakura to take you back to his home. Youji Ishikki will then have no claim over any of your mother's assets whatsoever, and you will also be free."

Futaba takes that all in with silence, flinching only when Akechi mentions that she had to lock herself back into the basement.

Akechi considers this – he didn't like complete darkness himself, having been in one too many unimaginative punishments dealt by some of the parents he's had – and asks, "Is that too difficult? I understand if it is."

"I can do it," Futaba replies, tone still lit with a little stubbornness inside.

They watch Featherman reruns for the rest of the evening, watching Pink decimate dozens of ghosts to reach her teammates on time to warn them about a trap, until Futaba is asleep on her bed, curled under the hotel blankets with the air-conditioner turned warmer than Akechi would have preferred.

It's then that Akechi slips back into the Metaverse and goes back to LeBlanc, where Sojiro Sakura is still cleaning cups by his counter. The sign is flipped to [CLOSED], though Sojiro is still inside with the lights on.

Akechi opens the door, the bell giving a cheerful tinkle. LeBlanc's distinct smell of coffee and curry wash over him, as he watches Sojiro turn towards the door with a frown on his face.

"Hey, don't you see that we're closed?" Sojiro says, tone irritated. "Get out before I accuse you of trespassing."

"Sakura-san," Akechi replies instead. "Are you concerned about Futaba Ishikki?"

Sojiro's eyes widen. "Wha— Who are you?" He asks in suspicion, eyes narrowing.

"I'm Wakaba Ishikki's friend," Akechi replies. "You're a smart man. You should have noticed the people who're searching for Wakaba's research, right?"

"Yeah," Sojiro replies, voice still terse. "That's why I've been lying low. What's this about Futaba?"

Sojiro tries to step closer to him, but Akechi takes a warning step backwards and he stops, face set into a scowl.

"Wakaba originally granted you guardianship rights over Futaba if anything happened to her," Akechi starts, "but this was manipulated by the leader of the conspiracy because of her inheritance rights. He's allowed her to be passed around by uncaring relatives while he searches for more leads to Wakaba's research."

"Wakaba's shitty relatives have been blocking my calls for the past month," Sojiro says, impatient. "No-one is telling me who has her."

"I was waiting for a safe time to transfer Futaba into your care, Sakura-san," Akechi continues, pulling down his beanie a little more. "But it cannot wait any longer. Futaba has been placed under Youji Ishikki, and she is not being treated well."

"Youji?" Sojiro breathes in, before swearing under his breath. "He's the worst of them all. I thought he was gallivanting over Japan. Why is he back?" Immediately after the question, Sojiro shakes his head. "No, stupid question. He's here to steal Wakaba's money, isn't he?"

"Correct. If you care about Futaba Ishikki at all, please follow these instructions to the letter. This will prevent Youji Ishikki from ever entering your lives again while avoiding the mastermind. I can only leave it to you."

Akechi steps forward and places a piece of paper with a few instructions onto the counter before stepping back into the doorway. In the few seconds that Sojiro takes to pick up the paper and read it, somehow the kid (the other boy was obviously young – height still not mature and voice too smooth to be middle-aged) had disappeared. The bell at the door didn't ring, but there's no-one left in the shop.

Sojiro shivers. It's an ability near supernatural, and it's with another stab of regret that he didn't believe Wakaba when he had the chance. He knows, vaguely, what she had been researching, and obviously this boy has somehow attained it. Some greedy asshole must have realised that and targeted her. Now, he wouldn't see her profile leaning across the counter, critiquing how he made his curry, nor nights of messy research papers scattered around while Futaba crouched on top of a stool and demanded bigger bowls of curry. Wakaba's view of the world, so untainted in it's pure, scientific curiosity that Sojiro had been endeared by day one... And he sighs. Perhaps this is what it's like, to feel old.

Reading over the note again, the instructions are simple.

There's a number, to be called at 10:15 AM exactly.

He's to insist on a meeting immediately, citing an urgent case, before heading over to Youji Ishikki's address.

Stick by Youji Ishikki and take photographic evidence of everything he does while pressuring him to show Futaba.

Avoid Wakaba's lawyer to press charges.

Take Futaba home.

Sojiro folds the piece of paper carefully, feeling every single moment of the years he's lived pressing down on him as the implications of what he sees disturb him.

Photographic evidence. Pressing charges. _Avoiding Wakaba's lawyer._

No, Sojiro decides, flicking off the light and locking LeBlanc. The people of Yongen-Jaya chatter behind him, as a crowd of old men crowd into the public baths opposite the café, and Sojiro nods to the few he knows. No, he's not going to think about this now.

Get Futaba first. Think later.  


* * *

  
Kanai had a strange shift at work today. She had started work again, drinking a bottle of orange juice and downing a few iron tablets to see if it'll help her mood. Slapping her cheeks and trying to slip back into the bubbly mindset she had just a year ago, her mood (which hadn't changed for the past few weeks) suddenly _did_ change.

Her doubts were suddenly blown away. She had an answer for everything.

Was there a reason why she's in her industry? Of course there was! So many children had social workers who didn't even try anymore, and if no-one was there for them, who would? If the law itself forced her to return children to places that weren't good for them… all she had to do was find proof that abuse was happening!

The answers came so dizzyingly fast that Kanai felt more than a little overwhelmed.

Yes, a smooth voice in her mind whispered. Yes, next time you have to try your hardest. You won't fail the next case now, would you?

Kanai felt a burning sense of passion back in her heart, the one that had spurred her on to help people out in the first place.

Of course she would! She's not going to deny herself anymore for other people! She's going to do what her heart tells her to do!

That's when the phone rang, and she picked it up. It was a worried man, thinking that there was abuse going on for his friend's daughter.

For some reason, Kanai really wanted to take this case for her own. It wasn't as if her boss would be angry at her if she did take it as a personal case – her boss already knew how disheartened she'd been to lose four cases at once.

"Okay, Sakura-san. Please tell me where I can meet up with you, and we'll check with her together."

After a quick check with her boss to see if it was fine, Kanai picked up her bag again and walked out the doorway to meet up with Sojiro Sakura, a dapper man with deep lines on his face, dressed in a sakura-pink shirt.

Kanai knew it was going to be a mess the moment she laid eyes on Youji Ishikki. He was a drunkard, for one, seemingly hungover when it was only noon. Secondly, the inside of his house was absolutely disgusting, and it was only sheer professionalism that made Kanai react with only a slight wrinkle of her nose.

Thirdly, he kept the poor girl under his charge in the most atrocious conditions she's ever seen.

Sojiro Sakura's hand was shaking with anger even as he took pictures of everything – the basement, the dog bowl full of food, the basement without windows, light, amenities, or even a blanket, and Futaba's condition without a shot of her face.

"You'll be safe now," Kanai bent down to look at Futaba at her level. She didn't take any offence at all at how Futaba only shrank around Sakura, the man apparently a close family friend. "If you don't mind, I would like to use your photos as evidence to take this man into court, Sakura-san," Kanai straightened up to look at Sojiro. "Also, I want this girl's case transferred to me, and that should be ample evidence." Kanai paused, before looking back at Futaba. "Would that be alright, Futaba-san?"

The girl didn't talk, but she did nod, and Kanai took it as a good sign.

"I've signed some temporary papers for now, Sakura-san. You're free to take Futaba home, but be prepared to have both police knocking on your door soon, as well as my agency. Would that be fine with you?"

Sojiro Sakura honestly looked more concerned for the girl than anything Kanai had to say, but he nodded anyway.

"Thank you, Kanai-san. Do you mind if we go first? I want to make sure Futaba is comfortable first."

"Please, Sakura-san," Kanai replied. "I'll stand watch over Ishikki-san until the police come."

"Thanks," Sojiro left after a gruff farewell, and Kanai spent the rest of her day with the police, detailing what happened, explaining the process of the day, providing the photographic evidence after saving a copy on her own phone.

It was fortunate that her passion for her job came back in such a timely fashion, Kanai found herself thinking as she took a bath that night. She definitely wouldn't have taken such a difficult case even just yesterday.

But she's helped save yet another child, and the thought fills her with a bittersweet feeling of satisfaction as she dips herself underwater and holds herself there, gazing at the lights through the wavery surface of her bath. Well, she reasoned, tomorrow was always another day.

She needs to take advantage of her renewed enthusiasm and catch some sleep while she can!

With that thought, she dived into her bed and fell straight to asleep, snoring slightly.  


* * *

  
On the same evening, Akechi stood in front of Shido, having told him that he's found something absolutely monumental last night. That's the reason why he was missing from his dorm, after all. He was merely exploring the Metaverse a little too deeply after his amazing discovery.

Because this is the last step to make the plan watertight – to distract Shido with something greater than a month-old case. Futaba's move must have definitely landed on Shido's desk by now, so Akechi merely needs to make Shido pay more attention to something else. Something that he must have been waiting for all this time.

Shido wasn't the only one to know how to hook bait.

"What about it, Shido-san?" Akechi smiles, hiding behind a façade dripping with politeness. He does not project the smidge of stupid naivety that he had injected in his persona before. There is no money and affection-hungry orphan in this negotiation. Instead, he's shown a bit more of what Shido must've suspected he was – a negotiator, youthful and slightly cocky with confidence. He stands without subservience, and Shido's eyes gleam with interest as he sits back in his chair, fingers interlocked.

He watches the teenager in front of him stand with a deliberate casual flair, his face so similar to the pining, pathetic woman that was his mother with an expression he saw in his own mirror every morning.

Ambition.

Calculation and a confidence borne from seeing that some people were lower than yourself. A greed to stand where they deserve.

Shido sees himself, and he can't help the smirk that rises to his face.

"You think you can bargain with me with this?"

"I would have thought you would see the value of Palaces yourself, Shido-san," Akechi returns, voice pleasant. "When I was targeting Wakaba Ishikki, her Shadow muttered many… interesting things. Things," Akechi slows his speech in a minor taunt when there's a flicker of spiked attention from Shido, "that implies that the distortion in Palace Holders may be so great their Shadows are different too."

"You mean…?"

"I'm no fool, Shido-san," Akechi smiles with a sliver of teeth. "Weren't you aiming for me to become your ultimate assassin?"

They hold their gaze between them for a second longer, before it is Shido who closes his eyes.

"You have already proved that killing a Shadow in that collective unconsciousness merely makes a person faint. What proof do you have that killing a Shadow in those Palaces you've learnt to invade would lead to death?"

"None," Akechi replies easily. "However, before her coma, Ishikki's Shadow muttered enough for me to know that killing a Shadow in a Palace will at least lead to a mental shutdown. In the least, they become comatose. At worst, their bodies fail and they die. Both ways they're out of commission, which is all you need for your political purposes. Isn't that right?"

Shido's smirk widens. "And what do you know of my campaign?" He drawls, and Akechi dares to give a small scoff of a laugh.

"You are a public figure, Shido-san. Masayoshi Shido, stepping up for prime minister candidacy after a medical failure that was once on one of my target lists. The Minister of Health, one of your political opponents, is now under fire from the investigations you're doing on hospitals. Shall I go on?" Akechi asks, and when Shido doesn't move, he continues, putting a hand on his chin in fake thought.

"You are frequently mentioned on television on political channels, and the media is still discussing your growing prominence in the Liberal Co-Prosperity Party as one of the most promising candidates for the next election. From the information I'm collecting, I deduce that you are aiming at the Minister of Nuclear Compensation as the next step. From what I've gathered, some of his direct subordinates are embezzling compensation money for themselves. Doing such an act should guarantee a Palace to occur, and if they die, one of your agents can point out the strange numbers in their assets, which will bring that Minister under fire as well." Akechi concludes by straightening himself, tilting his head gently. It's a cold smile, one someone like Shido will understand. "Am I wrong?"

Shido's face hasn't changed. It's stone still, the office so silent he can hear nothing except a suppressive sense of muted noise that he knows must exist outside their sphere until it's suddenly shattered.

Shido bursts out laughing. It's a full-blown laugh, mouth wide and belly deep. He has thrown his head back, hands still locked in front of his stomach, before he shakes his head and wipes a few tears away from under his glasses.

"You are far more interesting than I thought," Shido says, amusement dripping from his voice, "and not many take that pleasure, Akechi."

"Thank you, Shido-san," Akechi pleasantly agrees. "I was merely guessing, with my conclusion that your plans will work much better if those you target go out of commission because of unidentifiable means."

"Like you?"

"Haven't you already crippled all the cognitive pscientists who can even guess that the Metaverse is involved if this plan succeeds?"

Shido nods. "And now you stand, thinking that this is enough for me to concede to your demands."

"They aren't hard requests, Shido-san," Akechi now demurs. "I'm merely asking for some regulation in my missions. One interrogation a week, one Palace a month, free reign to experiment by myself with the Metaverse with support from whatever research resources you have… And oh," Akechi pretends to forget, tacking it on. "Removing all the hidden cameras I've noticed around the places I recently frequent. Those are truly minor requests, aren't they?"

Conditions vastly better than what he had been subject to in his past life.

If he was to use himself as bait, then he had to reap at least that much benefit.

"Limiting your usage is limiting your usefulness," Shido points out, eyes never having lost that amused, predatory gleam. He was watching for reactions, noting him down, reading notes that Akechi had prepared beforehand.

It's all too easy to shrug and meet his eyes. "Shido-san, you must have realised I agreed to this deal to increase the quality of my life. What's the point of living well only to be someone's dog?"

Shido will allow this arrogance, Akechi thinks. He's the type to like seeing things like pride and vanity and toying with them, using them to break them later on.

And sure enough, Shido's smirk never fades.

"Alright," Shido agrees, leaning forward to bring his elbows to the table. "I agree to your terms, Akechi. We'll revise the contract. One interrogation a week, one Palace a month, and no surveillance. Instead of guiding your experimentation, you can write a report to me every fortnight on new revelations that you find."

"That's satisfactory, Shido-san," Akechi agrees, and they finish proceedings in an unnatural silence. It's when Akechi is holding the piece of paper in his hand and his hand is on the doorknob to leave when Shido's voice rings out behind him.

"Next time be careful that you aren't too presumptuous, Akechi," Shido says, voice cradling a dark promise. The confident smirk reappears with an edge of a threat, a silhouette against the cityscape behind him. "I met an overseas businessman recently, and he told me an interesting saying about poppies in his country when they grow. If a poppy grows too tall compared to the others… it's much easier to cut them down. Don't you agree?"

Akechi smiles and refrains from answering, leaving on that note. He closes the door behind him to Shido's amused chuckle and makes his way through the empty apartment to the exit. The brand of his concession is solidified with a quiet turn of his mind, as something new settles.

**Masayoshi Shido - Devil Rank 2**  


* * *

  
"Are you going to leave now?"

His last visit.

Futaba Sakura was safe now, after all. Sojiro Sakura had given her the room she had lived in whenever Wakaba dropped her off at his place, already filled with her favourite action figures and a wardrobe filled with clothes she chose. Headphones are around her neck, completing the image of his memory as her eyes look too huge in her gaunt face under a spare pair of glasses. It would be a cold day in hell before Sojiro would ever starve Futaba, so he didn't have to visit in person, and anything unnecessary was a potential avenue of danger.

"What about our promise?" She's frowning, hands clenching the windowsill. "Why aren't you talking to me? I, I don't blame you, GA! No matter what, you… you saved me! If I don't blame you, you're not allowed to blame yourself!"

Akechi watches silently, before reaching out a hand. Futaba places her own in his in confusion, and Akechi gently closes his hand over hers in a handshake.

"If you can do this," Akechi finally says, "I'll think about telling you the whole truth."

Futaba's eyes light up.

"If I try, I can do anything if it's not physical!" Futaba is exclaiming, even as Akechi secretly taps the Metaverse app in his other hand.

The world warps, and Akechi is left standing on a small rooftop with his hand holding nothing. Futaba Sakura's room is intact but empty.

Akechi manages a small, empty laugh.

Ultimately, he's not the one that can pull Futaba Sakura in, after all. Akira, the Golden Boy, would be the one that will invite her into his party.

The quiet of the Metaverse is soothing as he slowly meanders back to his dorm, thoughts clamouring in his mind.

The next day, he mutes Futaba Sakura's chat on his phone before going out to school, greeting the new day just as normal. He reassures Saito that everything is fine with an extra-wide smile, and pleases his teachers when he answers all his questions right again. Classmates chatter about upcoming exams, many bemoaning their averages and how little they've studied, while more students than usual approach Akechi for tutoring.

He's more than glad to, as it offers a source of distraction.

It's the same when he greets Atsuzawa, finally back from his long investigation. The long whip of a man grins when he sees Akechi.

"Yo, kid!" He claps Akechi on the back, and Akechi jolts from the human contact. "You good for another weekend trip to Nishi? I found a lead, and Takaki found a body, so we need any help we can get. Get some fresh air out of the office, hah."

Akira's bright smile flashes through his mind, and Akechi manages a smile that isn't as pasted on as the others.

"That… sounds absolutely wonderful, Atsuzawa-san."

"Great. See you tomorrow at six in front of Headquarters again. Buy me coffee too, if you're getting one."

With another back-clap, Atsuzawa's gone to heckle Naho, leaving Akechi to try and avoid the mounting amount of messages that he sees on Futaba's messaging phone app.

[HoneyOTU: **79 UNREAD MESSAGES** ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, your messages are so nice. I'm glad you guys liked the chapter last week :D I hope this chapter was okay too, umm. Akira's going to come back, and this time it's Atsuzawa's turn to slap some sense into Akechi, who is now struggling with Feeling Things for Other People that are not himself or his mother.  
> And yeah, lol. Futaba's not gonna give up. RIP Akechi. Just wait until Wakaba wakes up hah.  
> Thanks for the kudos too, omg. I think we're around 750 now? That's a lot guys. I am. Really happy that so many stayed for so long. ^^ Stay strong in these times! Stay sane too. We'll all get through this!  
> On this week, I've been playing too much Persona 5 Royal and way too many games of Tycoon haha.  
> If only I have such good hands of cards in real life card games...  
> See you all next week! I'll edit again throughout the week, sorry for roughness.


	16. Chapter 16

The air is dry and cold when Akechi steps out of his dorms at five twenty in the morning, and the sudden drop in temperature makes the two coffee cups he cradles in front of Headquarters a pleasant burn. He only brought his personal phone with him just like last time, leaving his work-phone in his room.

It leaves him with a small sense of relief as he stands in the weak morning sunshine, observing random pedestrians out on the streets. Mostly stall owners or workers, with some joggers here and there on an early Saturday, bundled up more against the chill.

This time, Atsuzawa is a rumple of a human being who slouches down the steps of the Police Headquarters behind him, yawning while he lugged a bag on his back. Though it's obvious he tried to keep up some semblance of appearances, since the rumpled clothes were clean even if there were obvious laundry creases and he was still cleanly shaved.

"Didn't get to go home?" Akechi asks sympathetically, tone warm and friendly as he handed the extra cup of coffee to Atsuzawa.

"Got held up by the boss for another thing, don't mind it," Atsuzawa said hoarsely, grimacing at his voice and taking a swig of burning coffee. The next sentence came out much smoother. "G'morning kid. How much do I owe?"

"Five-hundred yen," Akechi replies easily, as they both head towards the train station. "And good morning to you too, Atsuzawa-san. Any news for me?"

"Ugh, don't ask," Atsuzawa groans. "But basically, there's been a murder that's in Nishi-Hachioji that we think is linked to Shion Gen. I've been off gallivanting across Japan, but that's because of special investigations from other districts, so the moment such a big lead comes of course I dropped everything to come back. I can't believe the old man still wanted me to go to Kyoto this morning, what's he thinking?"

"He must have his reasons," Akechi gives a noncommittal reply, sipping his own coffee. The SIU Director had squarely become one of Shido's goons, and by the looks of it, he's doing quite a good job of diverting resources around to hide the fact Shido was inserting more and more plants into the Police Force.

"That's the drawback about big organisations I guess," Atsuzawa grumbles. "Can't question higher-ups. Whatever, let's just catch the train."

The process was remarkably similar to last time, where Atsuzawa started snoring loudly the moment they sat in their seats, only this time Akechi was left to his own devices. There was a history assignment that Akechi had wanted to start on anyway, and he'd finished a basic draft of his essay by the time they transferred trains to go to Akira's more remote town.

It's obvious the moment they step into the main township, as it seemed like every stray murmur and gossip was about the case they were approaching. Atsuzawa steps forward like he already knows where to go, Akechi following behind him as he keeps an open ear.

"I can't believe it," some aunties chattered as they huddled around the cordoned street corner they neared. "A murder! In our neighbourhood! What are the times coming to?"

"We've never had an incident like this!"

"Oh, I heard that specialists from the Tokyo police are going to come help. It seems like it might be bigger than we think," her friend exclaims as Akechi passes.

Atsuzawa pays them no mind, looking more and more alert as they neared the scene. With a flash of his badge, the monitoring officer nods and let them both into a nondescript house. It was a house that held the architectural style of the 90s, simple lines and functional design, clean enough to know the owner cared enough to keep up basic maintenance.

"Takaki! What do you have for us?" Atsuzawa booms the moment he sees the hulking figure of Takaki near the corner of the house talking to another man, and Takaki turns around with a grin.

"Atsuzawa-san! Long time no see! You too, Akechi-kun," Takaki greets the both of them jovially, before quickly turning serious. "I'll give you the basic tour."

Takaki heads inside, and Akechi follows with interest.

Homicide was never really one of his specialties. He had specialised in white-collar crime like financial fraud, embezzlement, and corruption when he first began, later adding on the mysterious serial 'mental shut-downs'. With Sae, he had been on paper trails for a broader range of cases that ranged from abuse to anything the SIU Director wanted to throw at her, but even then he was more of a behind-the-scenes investigator than anything else. Practically speaking, he had no forensic experience at all.

Although inappropriate, Akechi feels a thrill of anticipation as he looks around a scene he usually examines through photographs and statements.

"Forensics have already gone through this place, so the full report will be in your hands later, Atsuzawa-san," Takaki says professionally as he nods at various other members of the police force they pass. "The overview is that the victim, Eiji Bando, fifty-six years old, was a truck driver who is contracted for the local department store. He was found dead on Thursday evening after a worried colleague was wondering why he didn't arrive for a night-shift. They were close friends, so he had a spare key. Bando-san was found at the back of the house."

The hallway is bright, all the lights switched on as Takaki leads them down a nondescript hallway filled with the usual memorabilia towards the back of the house, where there is a taped shape of a man next to a desk. There are small numbered tags next to various pieces of evidence, as Takaki points to each one.

"Bando-san was found collapsed in front of his work-desk. He died from slit wrists, just like Gen-san, and this tape shows how large the bloodstain was when he was found." It's a large area that leaks even under the table. "There are no signs of forced entry, and again, we can't find the murder weapon. His computer was also stolen. Judging by the wounds, the coroner said it's likely something like a kitchen knife." Atsuzawa nods.

"What about the critical clue that you were telling me about?"

"Look here, Atsuzawa-san." Takaki waves Atsuzawa over, who delicately walks across the scene until he reaches the edge of the tape of where Bando had splayed out a hand in death. There, Takaki puts on a pair of plastic gloves before carefully rolling out the bottom cabinet of the work-desk. Atsuzawa peers in it, frowning in confusion.

"There's nothing?"

"This cabinet was cracked slightly open when the police arrived, Atsuzawa-san. Inside was merely a large vinyl music collection. If it wasn't because my little sister used to like scribbling in weird places, I wouldn't have caught this either. Look underneath the cabinet, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa looks dubiously at the inch of space between the bottom of the cabinet and the floor and frowns.

"Just detach it from the desk," he grumps. "Pressing my face to the floor would ruin more evidence than me straining to see whatever it is."

"Yes," Takaki nods, and Akechi drifts closer while Takaki gently detaches the cabinet and flips it over for them to see.

There are three characters.

Ka – Zu – I

"It seems like Bando-san used his last strength to write these three letters secretly before he died. Didn't Gen-san write 'Kazu'? Now Bando-san has written 'Kazui', an extension, and they both died in the same way. It seems like both victims know the same critical information. However, I've been looking into it the past few days, and I can't find any relationship between Bando-san and Gen-san, nor Shibata-san. "

Akechi looks at the three characters, before feeling a little complex.

On one hand, it was destressing and quite enjoyable to see a real-life crime scene play out in front of his eyes, and he wanted to see Atsuzawa in action. Since his role was of a bystander anyway, all he had to do was watch, take notes, and take care of whatever requests his senior investigators had for him. When else was he going to have such a good opportunity to observe and learn?

On the other hand, this matched perfectly with what he had been investigating by himself.

It's with a little regret that Akechi looks around the crime-scene – the tags, the solemn atmosphere, the murmurs of other policemen outside as they dealt with the locals. If he has learnt anything from his experiences with Wakaba, it's that honesty and initiative were great drivers towards ranking up an Arcana. Thinking over a little as to what face he should wear, Akechi finally coughs lightly for Atsuzawa and Tataki's attention and puts on a small embarrassed smile.

"My apologies for interrupting your discussion, but may I interject?"

Takaki steps back the moment Atsuzawa's sharp focus honed in on Akechi, bending down to put the cabinet back into place.

"Notice something, kid?"

"Not necessarily," Akechi demurs, shaking his head. "In fact, this is my first crime scene, so I can only learn from you both. No, it's related to the three characters we just saw. Before I say anything, Takaki-san, may I ask if Bando-san had a previous criminal record?"

Takaki stands back up, brows furrowing as he tries to remember.

"Yes, actually. It's quite old though. Twenty-two years ago, Bando-san was still living in Tokyo when he was arrested for burglary. After serving a few years in prison he was released on parole."

"I see," Akechi smiles in satisfaction, and Atsuzawa impatiently flaps a hand for Akechi to keep going. "May I ask if the prison he was held in was Yokohama Prison?"

"I'll check," Takaki nods seriously. Atsuzawa stays silent as Takaki speaks quickly into his phone, and it hadn't even been a minute before he hangs up the call. "Yes, Bando-san was incarcerated in Yokohama Prison during his sentence."

"Shion Gen was also held in Yokohama Prison before he was murdered, and Hideki Shibata, as a former yakuza, had been in and out of many prisons, one of which was a half-year stint in Yokohama prison fifteen years back. Before this sounds like conjecture, I wish to highlight a long-term inmate of Yokohama prison, a yakuza member called Kazuichi Hiroto."

"Kazuichi?" Atsuzawa replies in deep thought, and Akechi dims his smile into one of a similarly serious vein.

"Yes, Kazuichi Hiroto. He was sentenced to life imprisonment after murdering a woman when he was twenty-one, and after serving ten years he was let out on parole, wherein half a year's time he once again committed murder. He managed to evade police for two years because of plastic surgery and the use of aliases, but he was arrested and placed back into Yokohama prison. He is now forty-five."

It had been a hunch that Akechi had, as he sat in their corner of the office with a chattering Naho, methodically finishing daily tasks and given free rein over any free time he had after he finished.

Prisons weren't a topic that interested Shido, and during this time in his past life, he hadn't been Detective Prince just yet. Since it was nearing the end of his first year of high school, he had been juggling the maintenance of his scholarship as well as his increased duties in the Metaverse. So although he didn't remember much of the greater news during this time, he did remember greater trends in the media - like a few weeks of discussion on the news and papers about some scandal involving a criminal ring inside prisons, questioning how effective prisons really were in containing crime.

It had been a small stretch to connect that scandal to Atsuzawa's current case, but he had tried anyway.

Yokohama prison, 'Kazu'. There had been many 'Kazu's inside prison that had stayed, left, and went in the past twenty-four years, and more than a few that had such a long history that they could target both Shion Gen, a person who had entered prison last year, and Hideki Shibata, one who entered fifteen years ago.

However, there was only one 'Kazuichi' who fit all this criteria.

And now there was another man who served a sentence twenty-two years ago, just within Kazuichi's prison timeframe.

"Furthermore, both of Kazuichi's murders were committed in Asakusa, the place where Shion Gen was distributing drugs. The analysis of his yakuza tattoos also indicates that he's part of a deeply entrenched yakuza group in the area… a topic which you would know more than me, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa's eyes are deep as he assesses Akechi again.

"You did all of that in your spare time?"

Akechi laughs a little. "It was difficult since Mitarai-san gave me many daily tasks to finish while you were away, Atsuzawa-san. But I enjoyed using the skills that I learnt to investigate different trains of thought I had during whatever free time I had."

It, Akechi grimaces inside, had also been a lot of hard work. Twenty-four years of prison records were no joke and background checks on each suspect had been a pain in the neck. If he didn't have prior experience at digging records with Sae, he might've given up altogether.

"I had business in Asakusa for the past month or so," Akechi continues presenting his case. "While I was doing so, I kept my ears open. It seems like the crime rates haven't really dropped, and gangs have been more active. I took the liberty of copying one of the reports you did on Shibata's warehouse and filtered out all the Asakusa businesses. A few caught my eye – restaurants that police have tabbed with ties to the group Kazuichi is affiliated to. I wonder if physical checks of those places will reveal supplies of rat poison?"

That's the limit, working as an intern with no name. He didn't have any authority to issue warrants yet, especially if it was still merely a working hunch.

"What about it, Atsuzawa-san?"

"It's a good lead," Atsuzawa flashes a sharp grin at him in approval. "Give me all your research when we finish going over the scene, got it?"

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san."

Takaki beams at Akechi. "Great job, Akechi-kun! I think my I can complement your research with the investigations I've been doing here. Later though, let me finish explaining the scene."

"Go ahead," Atsuzawa waves Takaki over, and professionalism descended on the group of three again as Takaki went over each piece of evidence peppered with his own observations and conclusions. They're insightful and intelligent, and Atsuzawa doesn't interrupt as much as ask everyone for their opinions. Akechi is allowed time to provide his opinion as much as the other two, as well as space to ask questions.

Later, Takaki leads them to the police station.

"I've already vetted out most of the suspects," Takaki says, before pushing a file over to them. Atsuzawa waves Akechi over to read over his shoulder, and they both look at the two profiles. As interrogation is not something that any teenager had a right to know anything of, Akechi quietly accepts Atsuzawa's silent order to observe. "I'll leave the interrogation to you, Atsuzawa-san."

Watching through a pane of one-sided glass, the interrogations were pretty boring in general. Atsuzawa started with the man first, wearing the morning away into the afternoon that resulted in nothing in the end.

The woman, however, was a little more interesting.

It was evening, and Takaki and Akechi were both sitting in the observer's room eating takeaway when Atsuzawa finally cracked something out of the woman.

"Give it up," Atsuzawa growled, looking more impatient than anything. It certainly presented quite an intimidating picture to anyone who didn't know Atsuzawa, and the woman shrank back. "As I've said before, a few of your associates already ratted you out. We're locking onto Kazuichi Hiroto's crime ring as we speak, and this is your last chance to confess. I might be able to shorten your sentence if you do."

Akechi's finishing a bowl of miso soup when he sees woman stills for a moment when she hears the name.

Anyone with eyes understood that the name wasn't foreign to her, and Atsuzawa settled back with the satisfaction of a cat who had eaten all the cream, knife-smile glinting as he played with the pens on the table.

Takaki yawns, big palm covering his mouth.

"She's done for," he provides when Akechi glances at him. "Atsuzawa-san will never let that go."

And indeed, in less than half an hour, Atsuzawa had a confession, a list of names, and the woman's wavering statement in hand after he promised her safety. Akechi watches with interest now, noting down Atsuzawa's interrogation techniques.

'Just an affiliate', was her explanation as to why she had no tattoos.

No, she wasn't the one that killed Shion Gen, but she had done a few other things for the group.

Why? Money, she said blasé. This was her first murder though, she admitted, which probably explained why it was so sloppy.

Why use her then?

At that, the woman shrugged. The interrogation basically ended there. Atsuzawa stops the recording and stretches, hands touching the doorframe as he directed other officers to go inside. Takaki excused himself to help, while Atsuzawa enters the observation room.

"What are you thinking, kid?" Atsuzawa says, leaning against the wall like an especially long noodle, thin fingers twirling an unlit cigarette in his hands. They were indoors, after all. "We've apprehended our first, solid criminal, and you've given us the way to trace the rest. Great job, by the way, I'll make sure you're credited. But more importantly, what are you feeling?"

They both watch as the woman is lead out of the interrogation room in a sedate walk. She has a mild look of discomfort on her face from being surrounded by so many officers but otherwise looks just like any other lady on the street.

Truly, no-one can judge another based off appearances.

Masks, as Saito said.

"Why do you ask?" Akechi replies, and Atsuzawa huffs out a rough bark of a laugh.

"Just looking out for ya. Facing real criminals for the first time can be quite shocking for some, though you seem like you're adapting well. I don't know for sure though since you're harder to read than most, kid."

Akechi places a pleasant smile on his face. "I'm fine, Atsuzawa-san. I'm only glad that a murderer has been rightfully apprehended."

There's a slight scar on Atsuzawa's forehead that Akechi is only now noticing, as he's raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"What a textbook answer." Atsuzawa squints before he slides inelegantly down the wall to sit like a delinquent, knees drawn up. "I doubt that's the only thing you're thinking. Don't be hesitant now, Akechi. Lay it on me, I've been through a bit. Pinky promise not to judge."

Akechi is wondering what Atsuzawa expects as an answer before Atsuzawa breathes out.

"And no, don't give me bullcrap stuff because you think I want to hear something in particular."

Akechi side-eyes Atsuzawa, who has grabbed the leftovers on Takaki's table. He's waiting for his answer while munching on a piece of cooled tempura, grimacing at the lack of crunch.

Honestly, Akechi didn't feel much of anything except the satisfaction that his lead was right. What was a more normal reaction to a criminal?

"…Perhaps," Akechi says, thinking back to when he was actually younger and encountering the large corporate scams Shido orchestrated face-to-face. All those glittering businessmen and their sharp-eyed wives, adorned in tailored suits and beautiful smiles stealing millions at a time, "I was wondering about how normal she was."

"Ah, yes," Atsuzawa sighs. "That."

Akechi nods, and Atsuzawa chews through another prawn tempura.

"Looks just like any other human, doesn't she?" Atsuzawa says, waving tiredly out the corridor where the woman had been led to be detained. "Before and after the murder."

"Yes," Akechi agrees, placing his own hands on his lap. "I've read enough books to understand that this is a popular theme to explore, the hidden darkness within humans that anyone possesses. But perhaps this is the first time I've been able to reflect on it so clearly."

"You speak too fancy, kid," Atsuzawa rolls his eyes. "I'm too tired for brainy stuff after twelve hours of interrogation, but yeah, sure. I agree. The more you're in this job, the more you have to face that no-one is a saint. Just one of the costs of the job. Still wanna be a detective?"

"Of course," Akechi nods, and perhaps Atsuzawa sees a little of Akechi's real feelings on the issue – the fact that he really can't care less about a woman who has only proven herself as another piece of society's trash – before he sighs again.

"Kid, I'm just gonna tell you what I told Takaki, and every single other rookie I get my hands on, okay?"

Atsuzawa helps himself to another soggy tempura.

"We police, we're the gatekeepers of justice. As you know, police are the first contact to the justice system from the general public. We make arrests, go to the crime scenes people avoid, rush out to any report of disorder, violence, or incident. Undoubtedly, this makes us meet a lot of people that're kinda shitty, so a lot of my friends are kinda numb to it all. All grizzled and disillusioned and stuff, yeah?"

Atsuzawa swallows the next bite before continuing. "I don't know if everyone does, but in a job like this you kinda question humans, sometimes. So many people, so ordinary, can do so many not great things. It creates a question – like, why are we up keeping the law anyway? Why do we keep on protecting people who just go on to do the wrong thing forever?"

Akechi hums to provide a response before deflecting. "What's your conclusion, Atsuzawa-san?" he asks, and Atsuzawa huffs.

"Easy. Most people don't interact with us much in their life, do they? Think about it statistically," Atsuzawa waves a prawn emphatically, "we deal with maybe the 8% of the population that's problematic, and never see the 92% that just live their lives, right?"

"So you're saying that we shouldn't bias ourselves with what we see, because our very job as detectives means that the world that is presented to us is biased?" Akechi muses, and Atsuzawa takes a solid second to process, fierce brows scrunching together against what Akechi guesses is a fierce headache, before nodding.

"Yep, that's what I'm saying. I'm not saying you need to believe me, Akechi. You're a smart kid, and you've only just proved that over and over again since I've met you. Heck, I think you're going to be better than me one day. So I'm going to share this now, so you can chew on it with that smart brain of yours, okay?"

Atsuzawa finally finishes Takaki's leftovers, and he places the tray on the floor next to him.

"Kiddo, what do you think the spirit of the police should be?"

Akechi tilts his head for a second. "A strong sense of justice?"

"Yeah that's important," Atsuzawa nods, "but also. I think it's a strong spirit of giving second chances."

…Second chances?

Akechi is a little surprised, and Atsuzawa nods.

"Hah, thought I'd surprise you. But nah, I mean it. We're trained to look at everything suspiciously, but that doesn't mean we should just believe our instincts. Second chances are important. It's our first duty as protectors, Akechi, to hear out the people we protect. What sorta protector would we be if we didn't even try to reach an ear to the people we serve our life to? We have to remember – just because we see, what did you call it, the dark side of humanity more doesn't mean that society is all like that, you get what I mean?"

It's not as odd an opinion as Akechi expects, though it's an ideal that Akechi doesn't really see often.

It's also not an opinion that Akechi has ever lived by.

In essence, if Akechi thought broadly, Atsuzawa wasn't only saying that the criminals that they apprehend are the minority – which is true. He's also unknowingly addressing Akechi's other life.

Mementos. The darker, metacognitive reality that sheltered the dark truths in every person's heart. Complaints, death threats, self-serving logic and self-pity.

Everyone has a Shadow, a side that they denied themselves because of its social taboo. Shido, Wakaba, and even Morgana, the weird, talking cat that seems to spring from Mementos itself, say so. It's not comparable to criminals versus good citizens when it's 100% of the population that has dark Shadows in their heart, though it's true that Mementos is perhaps, the metaphorical 8% that he can see of a person and not the 92% that most people see and judge. That the reality itself, made of shadowy blunt truths, was in itself a biased representation of reality.

What Atsuzawa is saying, inelegantly and while munching on old tempura with no class and looking more like a delinquent than Ryuji, is basically trying to teach Akechi the _benefit of the doubt._

Is it even something Akechi can still feel?

Visions of all the Shadows he has ever faced emerge in his mind. He remembers the disgusting, filthy thoughts that pour out of their mouths, the utter lack of regret that they feel, and Akechi manages to twist his face into something a diligent pupil would have when they face a respected teacher.

"I'll keep that in mind, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi smiles.

Atsuzawa narrows his eyes at him, before shrugging.

"All I can ask. Anyway, you were spectacular today. Keep up the great work, Akechi." Atsuzawa's thin face manages to crinkle into something that could be classified as kind.

"I'm only doing my part, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi bows a little.

"You went above and beyond, kid. Want a break tomorrow? Naho says you were sick just the other day, and you've been overworking yourself. Since we finished the main interrogations and investigations here way earlier because of your tip, I think we can live without you for the day."

Akechi's going to refuse on principle, before remembering where he is.

Oh.

"…I'd love a break, Atsuzawa-san. I find I like the country air in this place. Can I stay here and return with you to Tokyo tomorrow?"

Atsuzawa shrugs, before rubbing his eyes. "Sure, kid. Heh, I have a feeling that with your lead, we can get to the bottom of this pretty soon, so take this break while you can. Gotta say I have high expectations of you."

Akechi feels a little flattered, but before he can respond they're joined by Takaki who laughs boisterously when he sees Atsuzawa crumpled next to the wall.

"Atsuzawa-san, there's a seat right there!" He says with cheerful affection, with which Atsuzawa rolls his eyes. All three of them stay late to finish writing statements before going to the cheap motel they stayed last time and crashing there.

By the time Akechi wakes up tomorrow morning, the other two have already left for the station according to a note left on the nightstand.

**Fusazane Atsuzawa – Justice Rank 2**

  


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A cheerful jingle fills the air when he opens the door to _Violet's Bakery_ , his eyes automatically heading to the counter where he sees the shop's lone worker checking out a few pieces of bread for a customer. Akira had glanced up when he entered, and his eyes widen in recognition when he sees Akechi at the doorway.

So, Akechi thought, giving Akira a little nod as a greeting. Akira hadn't forgotten him after all.

The other customer doesn't stay for long, leaving with his bag of bread while Akira steps out from behind the counter, as silent as a cat. Even now, Akechi notes, Akira moved with a precision that seemed to come naturally to him.

"Hello, Detective-kun," Akira greets, hands in his pockets. "What brings you here today?"

"Hello, Kurusu-kun," Akechi replies with a small laugh. "I'm still not a detective yet, so please call me Akechi. We've reached a breakthrough in the case, so my supervisor gave me a break. This seemed like a lovely, quiet place to sit for a while, if nothing else," Akechi says, acknowledging the warm, homey atmosphere that the bakery had. Not only did it smell delicious, but there were also small seats and tables inside that was perfect for a coffee and a croissant. "And you were pleasant company last time," Akechi offers truthfully. "I'm here to report that the cookies you recommended were quite delicious. Thank you."

Akira takes that with a small quirk of the eyebrow, before nodding and walking back to the counter. He sits on the stool there, resting one of his elbows on the counter, head in his hand. It seems like he's mulling over something, even though his eyes never really leave Akechi's figure. 

"If you want, I know a quieter place," the other boy says. "It gets busy here during lunch."

Akechi pauses in his vague perusal of the bread selection.

Logically speaking, Akira is still a witness.

"I don't want to intrude on your work, Kurusu-kun," Akechi replies.

"I get off shift at noon today," is Akira's easy answer.

"…If you truly don't mind," Akechi says, pausing. Akira shakes his head in negative, so Akechi continues with a smile. "Then I would appreciate the guidance and company."

There's a small flicker of something in Akira's eyes when he agrees that Akechi doesn't quite catch. There's no opportunity to examine it further either, as Akira turns his attention to a new customer that walks through the doors.

Watching Akira interact with the other patrons in the bakery is a process that shouldn't be so fascinating, but it isn't as if Akechi had ever had a lot of time to watch Akira in the real world when he was interacting with something else. There are many familiar customers, aunties and the elderly who would come in and greet Akira by name or exchange a few words with a familiar air as he handed back their purchases with a small-town unurgency. Akira received these people with a nod, responding only when the other pauses in expectation. It's a peculiar habit that Akira must have shaken off somewhat when he meets him in Tokyo. At least, he hopes so. Akira's slightly random quips had always made their interactions surprising, if nothing else.

Having settled by the window and busied himself by scribbling out paragraphs for his assignment, Akechi wonders what made Akira such a person, to always wait before giving an answer.

As promised, the next part-timer enters the bakery a little before noon, greeting Akira cheerfully. Akira merely nods his head in reply, taking off his apron and heading to the back to collect his things.

Akechi ignores the interested glance the girl gives him as he efficiently packs his pencil-case and homework back into his bag, standing up in time to join Akira when he reaches the door.

"So you mentioned a quiet place?" Akechi smiles as they head out. Akira nods, tucking his hands in his pockets as he looks up at the sun. It's the bright sun of noon, and Akira nods at it before shrugging a shoulder for Akechi to follow.

It's a familiar gesture he's seen dozens of times before. It's with a sense of bemusement that Akechi follows without complaint, trailing behind this familiar back winding through suburban Japanese streets until the scenery gradually disperses as they near the edge of town. The gaps between houses get wider, and gardens with overgrown weeds and scraggly grass grow more common as he follows Akira's steady tread out of town to where the horizon opens up in a sprawl of blue sky unblocked by any house or roof or streetlamp. Akechi's feet involuntarily stop as he takes a few moments to take in the unimpeded view of grass-fields, winding roads, and the railway track that sits as a gleaming trail of silver that heads back to the great unseen metropolis of Tokyo.

Akira is a patient shadow at the edge of a bordering road, standing comfortably in the shade in front of a smaller local track that leads towards the mountain.

"Not far left," Akira provides from Akechi's unspoken question as he nears before turning and leading again, feet steady against the loose leaves and branches that lie on the path. They never truly reach the base of the mountain before they enter the sparse forest full of thin trees and thick mulch, bright yellow and orange leaves streaking the light above them. Autumn has made the undergrowth especially deep, their consistent crunch their only companion other than the various small birds that flit by at the corner of their eyes.

Akira slowly but surely leads them to crest a small hill that holds a small shrine at the top with an old stone seat that faces the town. It's here that Akira gives into a slight smile when he looks back at Akechi, waving him forward to the bench. With a fond pat to the worn face of the deity's stone statue, so old that Akechi can't even distinguish the features of, Akira brushes away a few stray leaves before sitting down. The space left open on his side is an invitation that Akechi doesn't hesitate to accept, and Akechi finds himself looking down at the town in silence.

Now that they aren't moving, the world descends into the miscellaneous rustles of nature. A breeze, for once not heard through a window, brushes past his face smelling like bark and resin, leaves rustling in gentle time. Clear chirps of small birds come somewhere behind, and dappled shade over their small clearing play shadows over their surroundings. Rocks that shine bright one second gleam dark the next, and Akechi can't help but breathe in while feeling the slight warmth of the person beside him.

Akira had leaned back with his hands on the back of the stone bench looking upwards, but when Akechi turns his head he finds Akira already looking at him. It's automatic to smile.

"Anything you want to say, Kurusu-kun?" Akechi asks.

Akira blinks in response, opening his mouth a little before looking away before Akechi can really create eye-contact. After a pause, with grey eyes trained to a far-off point in the mountains, Akira quietly asks a question.

"Feel better?"

"Feel?" Akechi echoes and Akira nods, a finger reaching up to curl a lock of hair around his fingers. Dark eyes glance at Akechi before glancing away again.

"You looked tired," Akira replies amidst the wind rustling gold patches of sunshine across his hair, voice nearly taken by the wind. "When I feel that way, I like to come here."

A quiet and beautiful place, Akechi can't help but think, but isolated. This hill was only a thirty-minute walk, but it definitely removed them from the township spread underneath them. Akechi never remembered Akira being unsociable. The Akira he had known was surrounded by people who all clamoured for his time, never separated from Morgana who he willingly hugged everywhere and indulgently listened to whenever the cat had a quip or a comment to make. But on this trip and the last, Akechi never found anyone particularly close to Akira at all. No friends had barged in on shift, no family in the house when he visited. He files the thought away for now, taking a look around the clearing again.

"I see," Akechi replies, digging his feet into orange-yellow leaves. "I can see why. It's a beautiful place to sit down and think, removed enough that there's no fear of being interrupted."

Akira nods with a tiny quirk of a smile before he looks again out towards the township. The air between them is still not an uncomfortable one, Akechi notes with interest. For him, it's understandable that he's not wary of Akira, but for Akira to show the same attitude to him is a little… They have only met three times, after all.

"Thank you for showing this place to me," Akechi continues. "I haven't been out in such nature for… a long time. I've always been a city-dweller."

They both watch the town beneath them move slowly, tiny people walking through the streets, the apartments that seemed so tall now strangely squat in comparison to the elegant silver line of the railroad that continues past the line of mountains and down the countryside. On and on and on, in reminder of a world that exists beyond the boundaries of Akechi's own, limited experience.

"When was the last time?" Akira asks, and Akechi pauses.

It's one of his most private memories, hidden behind Robin's kind heart. It's known by no-one now.

But this is Akira, still a normal boy not yet golden. And here was Akechi, a traveller not yet blackened.

Perhaps if he gave this memory to Akira, not yet their intrepid leader, it would shine differently than the memories he would inevitably collect when he went to Tokyo. There's a small sense of satisfaction at that thought, and Akechi holds it warm against his tiny, selfish heart when he starts reminiscing.

"If you don't mind me speaking for too long, Kurusu-kun… If I remember correctly, I was six," Akechi starts, thinking back to his mother's beautiful hair twirled into an intricate bun at the back of her head, the colourful painted umbrella that she held up over them. "I didn't come from a very privileged family, so celebrations and other festivals were usually spent inside in front of the television. But one day my mother received a bonus from one of her clients, and there was a matsuri out of town."

He and his mother stood out in a sea full of beautifully embroidered yukata, diving fish and cherry blossoms, elegant butterflies shimmering on sleeves and silk koi weaving their way through obi. They wore their usual clothes, a nice but old dress for his mother, a shirt and shorts for Akechi. But it had been magical all the same.

"It was only a short rail-trip out of town before the city was left behind. There were a lot of stone steps to get to the shrine that the matsuri was being held at, but on top there were paper lanterns that were strung along the trees and the square, with game and food stalls lining the whole area."

Akechi didn't get to play any of the games. Now that he thinks back, his mother telling him that the games were too crowded and they had no time was probably his mother's attempt to save money.

"The very top of the shrine was bustling with lights and people, and my mother had never been one for crowds. A priest recommended us a short walk that we took that lead to a small clearing similar to this, Kurusu-kun, and we watched the sunset while eating some taiyaki. When I finished mine quicker than my mother, she gave me her remaining half. Kurusu-kun," Akechi says towards Akira's general direction, "I haven't been so removed from a city since then. There are a few parks I like to cycle through in my spare time, but it's not nearly the same."

Akira, who hasn't said a word throughout the whole thing, nodded in agreement. When Akechi nudges him gently with an elbow for him to elaborate, Akira sighs before acquiescing. "Nature… It's not arranged by people. Parks are."

"Exactly," Akechi agrees with a spark of satisfaction that Akira understood, before allowing himself a moment of wistfulness. "For just a little bit of the time," he thinks back to his mother's cold hands and the burning hot taiyaki on his tongue, the babble of the festival a far off glow behind them and a sea of stars above their little clearing of shadowed trees. Dappled moonlight, a darkness that felt safe with his mother there. "You're far removed from people and far closer to who you are without the perceptions of others… alongside the people next to you, of course," Akechi laughs slightly, turning his smile to Akira who was still listening intently. "My apologies for dragging on. Eating sweets with my mother is a fond memory of mine."

Akira's face is stoic as he considers this, before reaching in and pulling out a few things in his bag without looking away from Akechi.

"It's not taiyaki," Akira says, handing it to him, "but I hope dorayaki is still okay."

When Akechi unwraps the paper packaging, the smell of red bean hits his nose. He lets a smile spread across his face.

"Do you like sweets, Kurusu-kun?" Akechi allows the previous topic to rest, taking a moderate bite out the dorayaki and savouring the sweetness.

Akira, always the big eater, demolishes his in a few big bites and unwraps another one. "I don't really mind," Akira replies after chewing through another one. "I hope you think this is tasty though."

"It is," Akechi agrees.

"I'm glad," Akira says with a hint of a rising smirk. "Because I made it."

Akechi pauses before he looks down at the dorayaki in honest surprise. When he takes another bite, it tastes practically professional.

"It's not hard to make when you already have the ingredients," Akira shrugs, handing him another one before he's even finished the first. When Akechi takes another bite, perhaps the red-bean is less smooth than commercially made dorayaki, but he would never have noticed it was hand-made if Akira never told him.

"This is rather impressive," Akechi says after swallowing. "Your baking is extraordinary, Kurusu-kun," he grins. "I'm rather lacking in the culinary skills myself. I usually make-do with convenience store food, or a few fruits from the grocery."

"I did promise to make you something if you came back," Akira says.

It's been a few months for such a casual promise to be remembered, and the surprise must show on Akechi's face.

"Oh," Akechi replies, once again lost for words. Akira's small smile became a little wider at that, an edge of a tease.

"Not many people find me as interesting as you seem to see me," Akira says, a small laugh in intelligent eyes. "Or become so comfortable so quickly." When Akechi raises an eyebrow in silent question, Akira shrugs. "Too quiet," he provides with the tone of a person who knows exactly what the problem is and doesn't care enough to solve it.

Still, Akechi frowns. "That is hardly reason to avoid you, Kurusu-kun," Akechi replies, and Akira shakes his head.

"Rather, they don't notice me," he says. And under Akechi's gaze, Akira tilts his head again in that inquisitive tilt, watching him.

Yes, as much as Akechi had been observing Akira, Akira had been observing him back, hadn't he?

"It's strange," Akira leans forward with eyes the most similar to Joker's gaze he's seen since he came back in time, and Akechi swallows the bite of dorayaki in his mouth with a prickling feeling at the back of his neck. "You don't feel like a stranger, Akechi. I don't hate that though."

Akira's grey eyes assess Akechi once more before he retreats back into his comfortable slouch, Joker once again hidden by the stoic mask that Akira faced society with.

"Want another one? I made twenty, so eat lots for my sake," Akira says the moment Akechi picks up the second one, and Akechi manages a bewildered laugh as he unwraps the paper wrapping

"You're the strange one, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says, truly meaning it.

Akira quirks one side of his mouth, eyes briefly tilting into mischief.

"Hardly. Most call me boring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes answer questions a little later for plot reasons, but since there are a few things I can only answer as an author that popped up, so :D
> 
> One, I've always seen confidants ranking up like this - there's the mutual type, like Ryuji where they're bros chilling and Akira is there to support when necessary, and trust is made naturally, etc. The other type is like Yaldigor, where Akira obviously doesn't have much of an impression on him, nor does he ever really say he trusts Igor, but Igor places increasing expectations on Akira - and in response the Confidant levels up when Akira fulfils that expectation. Expectations are an important... thing *derpcough  
> One thing is that every character has their own expectations and conclusions on things based on things they know, so a lot of the time it might be different than the truth. Including Akechi, lol.
> 
> When this story is set - official wiki says Akechi and Shido met 2 yrs before, so I took some liberties. Unofficially, P5 is set in 2016. Minus two is 2014. Then I was like, man 2 yrs is a long time so I put Akechi in June (half a year in) and now they're solidly in October nearing November. Yes, there's still a year to go, but... uh, after some things, things will settle down and timeskipping happens. I have 3 mini arcs to go and then we'll be in the main plot. In nonspoilery territory and in no particular order, Wakaba/Futaba, Shido(prep), Atsuzawa. I think you all picked up on that by now so like, yup.
> 
> Yes, Royal will be featuring heavily but it won't be apparent for quite a while. I may even say that I stumbled over a Japanese Royal spoiler that made the final push into writing this ahaha or this wouldn't exist
> 
> Otherwise, I hope this was okay! Sometimes I wish I write a little more spicily, but also I want that subtle slow burn. Thank you so much for your support, by the way! Um, it was unprecedented, comments and kudos. I try not to fixate on statistics but when they're there my brain can't help it and I'm so glad I can share something that makes you guys happy. :D  
> Update on Futaba: Akechi's is gonna be a little shook at how many unread messages there are.  
> Update on Akechi's brain: still a little dark  
> Update on Akira's brain: he's rlly cute im gonna ask for his number (jks but also not akira thinks a lotta things he doesnt share)  
> Update on my job: my boss has promised to rehire me after everything is over! Thank goodness i'm. This week has been really good. To share my happiness, have you guys checked out Akechi and Akira's voice actors singing 'you're nothing without me' on youtube? It's a blessing to us all.  
> Sorry for the long message, see you next week! ^^ Will clean typos throughout the week.


	17. Chapter 17

_"What did you think of him?"_ Minato once asked in their discussion, _"the other Wildcard."_

Akechi often noticed that Minato struggled with names that he didn't already know, barring Akechi's own introduction. Akira had always been referred to as 'the other Wildcard' despite the many, many times Akechi has already said Akira's name.

He can't help it, after all. Akira had been the one force that had challenged him, over and over again. When he thought every single deed that he did was dead and done, Akira would revive it in a better way. Any traps he laid; Akira sidestepped. When given the powers of the Metaverse, Akira had unwaveringly become his version of Justice while Akechi had become a murderer.

And throughout it all, he never refused the superficial hand of friendship that Akechi had thrown him.

Akira and the trepidation in his eyes when Akechi raised his gun against him in that final moment. He had held it there for a long second, testing Akira one, last time. The flicker of confusion when he shot the emergency lock instead, before realisation and the aborted step forward. Not once did Akira use his lightning reflexes to raise his own gun back at him, to step back, or even to dodge.

It was the last thing he saw before he turned towards Shido's cognitive double of himself.

"What do you mean?" Akechi replied, hand over the bullet-hole in his heart. His fingers traced the ragged edges of it, the lack of beat.

 _"You mention him,"_ Minato said delicately. _"Quite a lot. But you have a way of speaking that doesn't truly show what you think of the people you mention. And I was curious."_

Minato's large blue eyes stared at him again, and Akechi allowed himself the indulgence of sending the full force of his annoyed scowl at him. As always, Minato's only reaction was a blink. His reaction is noted with a frisson of pleasant surprise. Akechi's been showing more and more sides of himself, and Minato has only ever reacted with acceptance and more benign curiosity.

"You're as nosy as ever, I see," Akechi replied with a little barb, and Minato sneaked in a small smile as he waited.

What did he think of Akira?

A boy who simultaneously did not care enough other's opinions to go against the flow, but also a person with an unwavering sense of responsibility when he saw wrongdoing. A little careless, a little carefree, Akira was a person who could unconditionally give his all for his friends.

Parsing through all his hatred and the burn of his envy, Akechi had to acknowledge his admiration at Akira's unflappability against fame, acknowledgment, reputation. Things that Akechi found irreplaceable were tools of Akira's, something that had swept the Phantom Thieves up and nearly left them vulnerable – if not for Akira's steady mind.

Akechi managed to hum.

"He was a fool," he finally replied to Minato's question. "Even after I gleefully shot him, he still trusted me, in a sense. He still listened to my last words and agreed to fulfil my last wishes. What sort of idiot does that for his murderer?"

"But perhaps I'm the biggest fool of all," Akechi continued without letting Minato speak. "To betray someone like that."

 _"Do you regret it?"_ Came Minato's next question.

Akechi's fingers stopped tracing the bullet-hole as he allowed himself to feel the cold of space infusing his body. He has no warmth now, to stave that off. Somewhere along the line, he realised that he could change his appearance. He does not need to be Akechi clothed in Loki's hatred, forever in his blood-splattered moment of death. Instead, he can present the pleasant Goro Akechi who smiled for television interviews, perfectly immaculate and styled for maximum popularity to Minato's curious eyes.

He found he didn't want to.

"…Yes," Akechi finally said. It is a difficult admission, but it leaves him like a breath of fresh air. "Yes, I do."

  


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They stay there until the afternoon light turns dimly yellow, Akira not minding when Akechi scribbles his homework, leaning over his shoulder to read his work. They share conversation over the rest of the sweets Akira baked, and somehow Akechi learns more about Akira than he had ever learnt in the past few months of his acquaintance with him last time.

For example, he hadn't known that Akira actually had a lasting interest in horticulture.

On their way down, Akira nonchalantly lists out every type of tree and plant they pass, and Akechi's amazement is real when they reach the township again just as the sky is getting shot through with gold, a pink tinge in the clouds.

"You're amazing, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says as he tries to discern the difference in between the two ferns that Akira had given him. If Akira had not first pointed out the different type of ridges on the leaves, Akechi would have thought they were the same. "Your powers of observation are quite astute."

"As amazing as a detective?" Comes Akira's deadpan reply, eyes amused.

Akechi can't help but laugh.

"An individual's power of observation comes alongside their field of expertise, Kurusu-kun. You've certainly surpassed me in the field of plant studies."

Perhaps that is why Akira had chosen to work at the flower shop at Shibuya so much. It's a new point of enlightenment that Akechi tucks into the small portfolio that he has labelled _Akira Kurusu_ in his mind as they head deeper into the town, leaving the open plains behind for the more mundane town streets. Suburban houses close in again as Akira leads the way back towards the centre of the town to the police station, their footsteps in time. They stop at the intersection between the bakery and the station, Akira standing there with his bag loosely over his shoulder as he waited.

There's a strange expectation in the air that Akechi swallows against.

"Thank you for accompanying me for the day, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says, and Akira nods.

He doesn't move. He continues standing there, waiting. In response, Akechi searches for what he's trying to say and finds little. For some reason, words come slowly to mind.

"You've truly allowed me to appreciate the beauty of nature for the first time in many years," Akechi tries again, and all Akira does is another nod. After another pause, Akechi concedes.

"Goodbye," Akechi bows in the burgeoning awkwardness that had been absent most of the day, turning back towards the station. Before taking another step, he hesitates. Perhaps? "…Before you leave, Kurusu-kun," Akechi turns back, pivoting on his heel. "May I have your number? You don't need to, of course, but I don't know if I'll be able to come back to this place for quite a while…"

He doesn't even finish turning before he sees Akira's phone already pulled out, head tilted as he stares straight at Akechi. Akechi's smile widens, pulling out his own phone. With a quick scan, they both accepted each other's contact numbers, and Akechi looks down at it with a warm glow of satisfaction.

Akira is still a witness, but as Atsuzawa says, the case is going to be wrapped up soon.

…It isn't too much of a breach of conduct if he takes this number first. He'll just refrain from telling his superiors for a while.

"Let's keep in contact," Akechi now allows himself to look up at Akira with the burgeoning sunset behind him, a wash of orange and pink staining an image still slightly strange without the glasses Akira wore, that he had become accustomed to in the past.

This time, Akira shares his smile.

"Alright."

This time they both turn to leave, and Akechi reaches the station just in time to see Atsuzawa guiltily snuffing out a cigarette under his heel.

"Yo, kid," he waves, and Akechi smiles while pointedly looking at the cigarette mark on the floor. Atsuzawa grimaces. "Alright, don't tell Naho, okay? She gets on my case way too much already. If you don't tell her, I'll treat you to dinner."

"Hello, Atsuzawa-san. How were you today?" Akechi agrees to ignore the issue, and Atsuzawa grins.

"Got a lotta headway. We have a lot of work coming along kid."

Atsuzawa chatters as they head inside, explaining how Takaki's investigations into Nishi had been fruitful in tracking down a few other people who had connections to Kazuichi Hiroto. They have a few solid leads going, and Takaki's job in Nishi was finished for now. They'll head back to Tokyo together.

On his side, Akechi explained he finished his history assignment in a café nearby, and Atsuzawa nods in approval as he bids Takaki to start packing for their return to Tokyo.

They're on the train home, all three of them sorting through papers and trying to slot them into place with theories muttered between all three of them when Akechi gets a ping on his phone.

When he checks the message, it's from Akira.

[Akira Kurusu: Thanks. I had a nice day today]

Inexplicably, there's a photo of a pot of marigolds attached. It's a small pot on a windowsill, the yellow-orange blooms lit up by the sliver of sky behind it. Although Akechi is a little confused, he replies anyway. When he finishes, he cannot help but see their new chat log as the representation of a new beginning. A new chance.

[Goro Akechi: Thank you again, Kurusu-kun, for your company today. Your flowers are beautiful. Are they marigolds? Otherwise, I hope you have a lovely evening.]

**Fool Rank 2 – Akira Kurusu**

  


* * *

  


By the time they arrived back into the bustling metropolis of Tokyo, it was late enough that crowds of drunk businessmen had started stumbling out of izakayas. The streets are bustling with the energy of a city, and Atsuzawa led them both to a homely beef bowl shop for their promised dinner.

"Thanks for treating us, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki says with his usual boisterous energy, waving the waitress over to their booth.

"I can't believe you wheedled yourself into this," Atsuzawa groans, hunching in his trench coat. "Do you know how much you eat?"

"As much as a healthy man for my size eats," Takaki replies cheerfully. They pause their conversation as they each order food before they continue their chatter. Somehow the conversation drifts to Akechi's assignment.

"Yes, it's a written piece on the Heian period," Akechi is explaining. "As we were given free rein on our topic of choice, I chose to critique the Tang Imperialism that the Heian Imperial Court tried to emulate, and the inefficiencies of the _Ryomin_ system that they implemented."

Atsuzawa whistled, blowing a long strand of hair away from his face.

"An honour student to the bone, huh? The complete opposite to this big guy here," Atsuzawa points at Takaki. "I met him when he was a high-school suspect, you know?"

Takaki sends them both a bashful look, and Akechi couldn't help but assess Takaki in surprise. Akechi would never have pinned him as a criminal affiliate if he profiled him. This large hulk of a man was perhaps too excited and happy, to the point of slight annoyance on Akechi's part. But he also demonstrated great competency in everything he did and was passionate about finishing his police duties.

"Yes, I was a bit of a problem child," Takaki grinned, scratching the back of his head and Atsuzawa rolled his eyes.

"Tell me about it. Cleaning your name was tough, even for me."

"I was in a bit of a scandal," Takaki shared to Akechi as he started tucking into his extra-large beef bowl. It goes down so quickly Akechi has flashbacks of Akira's tales of attempting the Big Bang Challenge. "I wasn't the best student in high-school, Akechi-kun! That's why I admire you so much," Takaki added boisterously, smile wide.

Atsuzawa jabbed a pointy elbow into Takaki's side, making him fake a flinch and a hurt look.

"This kid here," Atsuzawa leaned close to Akechi as if divulging a secret, "got sucked into a pretty bad scam back in the day. I was the attending officer at the scene. It was the Koganehasu round-up. You know it?"

"The big drug ring you cleaned up five years ago?" Akechi frowns as he tries to remember, and Atsuzawa's shark grin in response makes the waitress passing behind them scuttle away.

"You do know my cases! A big fan of mine?" Atsuzawa says lightheartedly as he picks up his own chopsticks to stir the beef into his rice. "Anyway, I found this big lug there explaining to one of my guys that he didn't know that he'd been trafficking drugs. For _months._ "

There's a slight sense of horrified awe inside Akechi when Takaki manages to finish his extra-large bowl and slam it on the table. It nearly knocks off the can of chopsticks loosely placed at the edge, and only Akechi's quick reflexes save it from dropping on the floor.

"Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki protests even as he waves the waitress for another bowl. "I couldn't help that I was a country boy! They looked friendly enough when they approached me!"

"Yeah yeah, you're a big street-smart city-slicker now, I know," Atsuzawa replies, voice sarcastic and fond as he reaches for extra soy sauce. "I always have a hunch for these things, and I've learnt not to ignore my hunches. I listened to the kid and dug deep for him, or he would've been in jail too since he just hit eighteen. I thought that'd be it, but imagine my surprise when last year, he popped in my division as a fresh graduate from the police academy."

"I'll forever be in your debt, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki grins as he enthusiastically dug into a second extra-large beef bowl. Akechi smiles blandly at the scene before glancing down at his own food and wonders if he's just slow. He'd been heaping a spoon with rice before stacking a bit of beef on top before eating it together at a pace he considered moderate, but he hasn't even finished half his own medium-sized bowl. "Your kindness inspired me to become an investigator, and I managed to become good enough to choose your division when I graduated police academy!"

"Yeah yeah," Atsuzawa mutters, scratching his stubble as he averted his eyes. "Stop talking with your mouth full, that's disgusting."

Takaki chuckles, cheeks bulging, before scarfing down the rest of his bowl without comment. The juxtaposition of his casual suit, large frame, and the rate of his eating drew in more than a few eyes, and Akechi meets each of their gazes with a smile of his own until they look away.

A sharp elbow knocks his own, and Akechi meets Atsuzawa's knowing gaze. It's crinkled in wry amusement, and Akechi adjusts his smile into an innocent one. Atsuzawa snorts. "And you, kiddo, stop eating so little. I've heard reports from Naho that you sometimes just bring an apple for dinner, you know."

Takaki gasps in horror beside him, managing not to choke on his food just in time.

"Akechi-kun! _No!_ "

"I'm fine, Takaki-san, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, neatly placing a piece of beef into his spoon and swallowing after chewing a few times. With Atsuzawa's boneless slouch in the corner and Takaki's enthusiastic eating, he wonders how he became the one with the most table manners out of this group. "I eat until I'm full, so please don't be concerned."

"How is an apple ever enough?" Takaki's distressed expression is dripping with an annoying sincerity that's hard to handle, and Atsuzawa is clicking his chopsticks in amusement until his face changes, grimacing at his phone buzzing on the table.

"Ugh, it's the old man. Be right back," Atsuzawa promises, sliding out of the booth to take the call outside.

"You should pick on Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says to Takaki, waving a hand towards Atsuzawa's mushed up bowl of food. He'd eaten even less than Akechi, mixing the beef, sauce and rice together into a gloop that seems to only have a few bites eaten out of it.

"I have," Takaki replies in continued distress, looking at the bowl of uneaten beef. "He keeps saying eating too much ruins his concentration, and I do know he eats enough with Naho-san prodding him. But as his subordinate, I cannot help but feel concerned!"

"You care a lot for Atsuzawa-san, don't you?" Akechi asks to continue the conversation, eating another bite of his beef bowl with precision. Takaki's beaming grin returns back to his face.

"Of course! Akechi-kun, Atsuzawa-san skipped a lot of stuff with that story, but I'm not lying when I said what he saved me from was _really bad_. He was the only one who believed in me, even when my own parents ditched me to save their reputation." Takaki's expression is vividly reminiscent, his voice not quite soft. His large hands cradle the cup of tea in his hands as his gaze transforms into something gentle. "He's my inspiration! He's someone I can confidently say I'd do anything for!"

Akechi finishes his bowl while Takaki's last sentence rings in his mind.

Anything. That's quite a dangerous sentiment to have.

Akechi places a friendly smile on his face and speaks with an edge of humour.

" _Anything_ is quite a statement to make, Takaki-san," he says warmly, and Takaki replying enthusiasm is unsuspecting.

"I mean it, Akechi-kun! I believe in Atsuzawa-san so much, I'd even jump into gunfire if he ordered it!"

There's a wry rasp of a voice that rings over their heads at that. "No-one is jumping into gunfire on my watch. What are you two even talking about anyway?" Atsuzawa has one strong eyebrow raised as he looked at the two of them dubiously, only to snort when Akechi turns around with his most innocent magazine smile. "Alright, I won't pry into your beeswax. Rookie one, with me back to Headquarters. Rookie two, go back home and prepare for school."

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki salutes, loudly praising the food to the waitress as she comes to pick up their empty bowls.

"Please wait for a second," Akechi says to the both of them, before smiling at the waitress. "May I ask for a takeaway box, please? Thank you," he says when the waitress nods and pays the fifty yen required when she returns. He proceeds to pour Atsuzawa's unfinished bowl of food into the box, and firmly close the lid on the gloopy mess. "Here you go, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa scowls at the box but takes it and shoves it in his backpack, while Takaki turns shining eyes at Akechi.

He can already predict what he's going to say.

"You're a genius, Akechi-kun!" Takaki exclaims, and Akechi laughs politely.

"I just thought someone I respect as much as Atsuzawa-san would never waste food," he replies, a little sly, and Atsuzawa looks at the two of them before rolling his eyes.

"Alright, stop ganging up on me, I'm too old for this crap. Go, shoo, I'm sick of the both of you together. I'll see you tomorrow, Akechi."

Akechi bows them off first, before heading to a different subway station to go back to his dorm.

He thinks.

For the past few months with Naho, he hasn't neglected to observe the rest of the office. He's been around the building a few times running errands here and there, and sometimes his organisational skills are pulled by some other parties.

Under Shido, he was the Detective Prince for two years. He met the people he needed to meet, heard rumours of the rest. He has an excellent memory for people, and familiar faces greet him wherever he went these past months.

In his past life, he had never met a man called Yoji Takaki.

A fatal accident, blamed on Atsuzawa. Atsuzawa, who seemed to care a great deal about his team and subordinates, judging by how he treated Naho, Takaki and Akechi himself. Atsuzawa, solving the case but retreating.

_"I'd do anything!"_

Matters, Akechi thought as he sat in the subway scrolling through his phone, were slowly clicking into place.

  


* * *

  


The next few days after school he follows Atsuzawa's orders and goes to Asakusa where they proceed to bust three restaurants in succession for the possession of drugs, with forensic testing on the go to determine whether they were the same as the type supplied by Shibata.

"I think we can risk riling them up a bit," is Atsuzawa's response, and Akechi follows behind the team of police that Atsuzawa requested with brimming interest. People are pulled out to be questioned, others face sanctions and their businesses closing down, and Akechi notes down all their names just in case.

It's a good enough distraction as any, for his personal plans.

The moment he had returned to his dorm, he picked up his other phone and switched it on.

The first message was clear enough.

**Minoru Kanda. Personal Aide to the Minister of Nuclear Compensation.**

Shido's first Palace request was accompanied with a wince of shock at the next notification.

[HoneyOTU: **758 UNREAD MESSAGES** ]

Akechi stared down at his phone before first taking a shower. Then he sat on his bed and took a whole hour to scroll through Futaba's messages.

They ranged from day to day musings about curry, Sojiro, how comfy her blankets were, and how glad she was to have her computer rig again (any decent rig, she claimed, needed at least five screens), to her frustrated attempts at getting him to respond back.

The messages stopped approximately five hours ago after a string of increasingly abstract memes.

[HoneyOTU: …I'm not going to give up you know.]

[HoneyOTU: Mom always called me stubborn, but I prefer calling it 'knowing what I want']

[HoneyOTU: I'm sick and tired of not being able to help friends who I know I can help.]

[HoneyOTU: Be prepared, GA!]

Akechi paused, before delaying his sleep and going to the Metaverse. He checked on Wakaba's condition (still asleep) before connecting his phone to her laptop and backing up everything he has onto it.

By the third restaurant raid, November was just around the corner, and the chill testified to the changing of the seasons. At school, his peers were dreaming of Christmas already, thinking what to do when winter break came. A few boys were boasting about the dates they would take their girlfriends, while others groaned in jealousy. As Akechi was regarded as part of the honour student group, some tried to drag him into conversations regarding cram school, exams, and plans for the future.

As usual, Akechi kept a smile on his face as he followed along with their troubles, murmuring a few placating words here and there.

Was he looking for a date? A girl asked, fluttering her eyelashes hopefully, and Akechi laughed inside while turning her down gently. He had too little time as it is, let alone to dedicate some of it to fulfilling a teenage girl's romantic delusions of him.

In the shadows, he planned his second-biggest lie.

Minoru Kanda was a well-established second-generation rich boy, who got the job as the Minister's personal aide through his parent's connections. The aging Minister's office and the delegation of funds were viewed by him as a get-rich-free ticket, and his Palace manifested as a resort where he was free to exploit everyone he encountered through his personal connections.

It wasn't a hard Palace to manoeuvre. The glittering sands of the resort with its stereotypical waving palm trees nestled a bewildering maze of a resort filled with cheerful slaves offering their money to Kanda was easy enough. It only took two days before Akechi was able to reach the summit, where the distorted Shadow of Minoru Kanda lied, spouting the usual self-serving words Akechi was used to.

 _"Those cripples don't need so much money,"_ Kanda justified, indolently sloshing a martini glass. _"All that money is better served with me because I'm a person who actually knows how to spend it! Ahahahahaha! You intruder, who has invaded so deep into my beautiful haven, will now face—"_

Akechi didn't bother listening to the rest of the Shadow's words, striding quickly forward and with a quick movement, jabbed Wakaba's completed **COMA AGENT** into his neck.

As the syringe emptied, the Shadow underneath his hands struggled to transform, the form nearly bubbling into something greater, something more, before it settled back down. Kanda's yellow eyes fluttered, his voice croaked a surprised, _'What did you do—'_ , before he collapsed on the steps.

In a few seconds, the whole Palace was quiet. Waves stopped beating the walls, light froze into solid beams. Grinning servants all froze with him, before dropping onto the floor.

The Palace fell asleep, just as Kanda did.

Akechi gave him a kick to make him lie straight before quickly escaping the Palace.

  


* * *

  


**Although it is a shame that the man didn't die, it still fulfils my needs. Good job.**

**I am not an unreasonable man, Akechi.**

**I will uphold my side of the bargain. Send me your reports and do your weekly tasks, and I will only give you Palace targets once a month.**

GA: Thank you, Shido-san. I will be sure to uphold my part of the bargain, please be assured.

Akechi watches the news, as an agitated news reporter decries the corruption within the current Ministration of the government. With Minoru Kanda's unexplained coma, now being supported in hospital, investigations to his health had instead discovered his government embezzlement for the funds dedicated to nuclear radiation victims still desperately in need of help.

 _"We cannot forget the importance of our history,"_ Masayoshi Shido was sombrely speaking in an interview. _"Japan is forever scarred by the consequences of nuclear radiation, and to know that humanitarian efforts to help such victims were being mishandled is a travesty that needs to be answered. Someone has to take responsibility."_

Conversation derailed to who, in fact, should take responsibility, and Akechi turns to look out the window.

The hidden camera there is gone. Though that isn't enough to let him completely trust his surroundings, it gives him a small breath of relief.

  


* * *

  


On the crest of November, Akechi is at school eating his convenience store lunch at his desk when his screen inexplicably lags. In his hand, the phone warms to the touch.

Akechi narrows his eyes.

Taking out the second sandwich from the clear plastic carton, he uncaps his bottle of water and pours it into the carton until there's a shallow puddle. He then promptly places his phone inside and watches the screen as it flickers and dies.

Across the city, a girl watches as the program she uses stalled in the middle.

[CONNECTION BROKEN]

A hand smashes the desk next to her keyboard. "Damn you, GA!"

She digs her hands into her long hair in frustration. "Ugh, dammit. You leave me with no choice. I want to get revenge for mom too, dammit!"

  


* * *

  


"Kirijo-san!" The head of cyber-security practically ran towards Mitsuru the moment she stepped into the room, and Mitsuru looks directly at the middle-aged man.

"Report," she commands, striding past him towards the wall of monitors that she set up for better conferencing when it came to more… delicate matters. Right now, however, all the screens were a glaring, acid green as a bright logo kept flashing on them. It was self-explanatory which hacker had passed Kirijo's military-grade cybersecurity.

MEDJED

Mitsuru had heard more than a little about this group of self-styled justice hackers. Thinking themselves modern Robin Hoods, they've targeted many major corporations across the world, leading to resignations, stock upheavals, and a heightened debate on international cyber law and the distinction between transparency and private information. Thankfully, most of Kirijo's affiliates have avoided the hacker group, as Mitsuru was adamant on keeping the Kirijo consumer brand as reputable as possible. However, seeing MEDJED's logo gave her echoes of past headaches from sitting behind the desk for too long, as business partners continued to fall through on their deals. She feels herself reflexively wanting to rub her temples just by looking at the name.

"What is the situation?" Mitsuru asked, a deep frown on her face. Her manicured nails tapped her arm as she sent a stern glare up at the screens.

"We detected an unknown intruder deep within our systems when it was too late," her head of cybersecurity was blabbering. Great skills but weak nerves, Mitsuru sighed in her head. "We think they have accessed our client records as well as every single one of our transactions with our affiliates in the past five years. We managed to stop them just in time before they reached into the R&D division, but even now our team is fielding their hacking attempts. I'm ashamed to admit it, but the man behind MEDJED has skill beyond what we can withstand long term."

Mitsuru frowns, looking over her shoulder to see her whole team of world-class professionals working together with the utmost faces of concentration. Now and then there is tech jargon being thrown around the room that Mitsuru does not care to understand in-depth – for that is the quality of a leader, to trust a subordinate's expertise.

"How long do we have?" Mitsuru asks, looking down to meet the deputy head's face. With her heels on, he only reached her chin.

The man grimaces, adjusting the thick glasses on his face.

"Twenty minutes… maximum."

"According to what I understand of MEDJED's modus operandi, they have no reason to target Kirijo group as of now," Mitsuru says calmly, and as expected the head of cybersecurity also calms a little at the sight of her taking leadership. "Therefore, they must have a demand for us. Do you have any idea about what they want?"

The man quickly turns around and waves a harried arm at another worker, who hurries to give a piece of paper to Mitsuru. She takes it and reads it quickly.

[WE DEMAND TO MEET NANA MOMODA]

[WE DEMAND YOU GIVE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING HER PARTNERS]

[WE DEMAND YOU GIVE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING THE CONSPIRATORS AGAINST HER]

[IF YOU DO NOT WE WILL RELEASE ALL THE INFORMATION WE HAVE FOUND ABOUT YOUR PAST EXPERIMENTS]

She controls herself before she expresses any outward surprise, though her fingers crease the paper in her hand.

Nana Momoda is the alternate identity they've given Wakaba Ishikki under their custody. For MEDJED to know even that much is an incomparable oversight on their part. Even so, Wakaba Ishikki is an irreplaceably important key to reach the boy they all cannot forget, the one who sacrificed his life for all of them to live. To reach Minato, who had patiently taught her all about the world outside her family name, to let her grow knowing that she did so for herself and not for anyone around her. They have placed the highest importance and security around Wakaba Ishikki's recovery, with Aigis herself by her side.

However, she notices that the demands are not malicious regarding Wakaba Ishikki.

Mitsuru narrows her eyes in thought before she turns.

"Send a message. I, Mitsuru Kirijo, head of Kirijo Group, have decided to agree to a meeting with MEDJED in regards to the demands shown."

Before her head of security could say anything in response, his eyes widen as he looks behind her. The green wash on his glasses flicker as if something is moving, and Mitsuru turns around to see that every screen behind her is typing a message.

[WHEN IS THIS MEETING, MITSURU KIRIJO?]

Mitsuru narrows her eyes, even as the room behind her flies into a panic.

"I have unavoidable business that will cut our discussion short if we enact our negotiation now," Mitsuru says smoothly, crossing her arms confidently and holding her head high. "Tomorrow, at noon, I will be in my office and arrange ample time for us to make a deal. Please accept the link to our discussion now."

There is a flurry of activity behind her as her team does as she said, before the screen in front of her blinks again.

[KEEP YOUR AGREEMENT, MITSURU KIRIJO]

[OR YOU WILL KNOW THE CONSEQUENCES]

The screens in front of her immediately stop blaring their acid green, going back to their normal feed as if nothing had happened. Mitsuru keeps silent for a second before her sweeping gaze passes the head of cybersecurity, who is dripping sweat.

"Keep this matter a secret," she said to everyone in the room, voice powerful enough to reach even the back. "I expect every single exploit MEDJED used to infiltrate Kirijo's systems to be patched up by tomorrow, with a report on my table by the morning. Understood?"

After receiving a firm affirmative, she gives them all a smile and a formal nod before sweeping past them and out the doorway. Outside the windows bordering the corridor heavy storm clouds edge the horizon, swept in by easterly ocean winds that block the sun, and Mitsuru continues striding forward towards the elevator.

"Arrange a car for me to depart," she says to her assistant who greets her the moment she steps off the elevator onto the ground floor.

"Yes, Mitsuru-san," her assistant bows before quickly arranging it. She steps into the car without pause, taking out her tablet to review some work while her driver takes to the roads of Yokohama. As she flicks through the work she needs to assess, she cannot deny that she feels a growing edge of anticipation.

Change is brewing, and it has been a long time since Mitsuru Kirijo has failed to transform change into progress.

And, she thinks with a confident smile, she will ensure she will not fail this time either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie guys. Thank you so much for your support, kudos, and comments. Some of those comments legitimately made me blush in real life? Uh. Please let me awkward turtle on by, but thank you so, so much. It made me really happy. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. It's a lot of prep plot for things that'll settle soon.  
> Some of you guys have really on point guesses by the way. Hehe, dear reader. I'm not going to divulge on Takaki. >:3 Atsuzawa is a scruffy middle-aged man with a big heart.  
> Akira and Akechi have finally exchanged phone numbers (Akira is rlly happy lol), and Futaba is going full throttle.  
> (Mitsuru is a queen i love her)
> 
> Keep strong guys, in these times! My best wishes for all of you (im so glad you guys all told me you listened to you're nothing without me on repeat, i'm not alone in my nerdery haha). I'll edit typos again through the week. See you next week! ^^


	18. Chapter 18

It's always something of a marvel for Akechi when he walks out into the turn of the seasons. Winter has not come yet, but the golden-red blaze of Autumn had already passed, decorative trees placed along the streets stripped to their bones with only a few straggling leaves here and there. The cold was coming in early, its breath a reminder of the relentless passage of time.

After New Years will come April. April will mark spring and the start of the new school year, where Akechi will live out his second year of high school in wait for Akira when he arrives in his third. Then it would be the beginning of the end, as he can finally join Akira and his band of Thieves to change Shido's heart and face whatever was behind together.

They exchange texts relatively often. Akira had never been prone to social media to the extent that many others of his peers were, often letting chats run ahead of themselves before replying in short phrases and falling silent again. A lurker, Akechi had thought with a bit of humour, in all aspects of his life.

It had been one of the biggest surprises of his life when he woke up and found an incoming text from Akira. Although all it said was [Good morning], he cannot, even once, remember Akira ever initiating a conversation through text.

It is ridiculous, he told himself, to feel happy over such a minor matter.

Akechi stuffs his hands into his pockets and allows himself to enjoy the clear morning air. Alongside Akira's text this morning, he had gotten a text from Naho asking him to fetch Atsuzawa from his apartment. Having said yes to the request, he left the subways at Jinbocho and follows the large street for a while before entering the street of used bookstores still opening up their businesses. Volumes and volumes of yellowed books greet him, walls of text that can't help but attract Akechi's eye with some of their titles, before he slides past them towards a stairwell that lead to one of the old apartments above.

On the third floor, Akechi stands next to a yellowed concrete divider where he takes a moment to watch the bustling view of eager book hunters on an early Sunday morning. Doublechecking the placard next to the door does, indeed, say [Atsuzawa], Akechi rings the doorbell.

The barks of two excited dogs reply before any humans. He hears skitters of paws on the floor and something scratching against the door, before racing back deeper into the apartment with excited woofs.

When nothing happens for another minute, Akechi rings the bell again.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Akechi hears a loud yawning sound that accompanies the barking that grows louder again. "Momo, Pochi, no, _no_ , cut it out, I need to open the door. Sit. _Sit!_ Good dog."

The door clicks open a crack, and Akechi smoothly enters before shutting the door behind him. In front of the shoe area is a sleep-deprived Atsuzawa, a strong shadow on his face with eye bags still as prominent as ever bending over to pat the two _fluffiest_ dogs Akechi has ever seen. One of them has yellowish peach fur, which he'd guess would be Momo, while the other was a darker caramel, and they both peer at Akechi with bright eyes and tails swishing.

"Do you mind dogs," Atsuzawa blinks blearily at him, his low energy a distinct contrast to his two pets. "Sorry if you do, I can probably herd them to my room for a bit if you want."

Akechi laughs softly as he takes off his shoes and steps into the apartment proper. "Don't mind me, Atsuzawa-san, I don't have any preference regarding animals. Good morning, by the way."

"It's Sunday," Atsuzawa bemoans as he finally stops petting the dogs for them to immediately wind around Akechi's legs, sniffing his trousers curiously. "No Sunday morning is a good morning. After this case I'm going to apply for a three-week break," he grouses as he waves Akechi forward towards a moderately sized living room. It's well-lived in, used books filling bookshelves to the point that books are nearly spilling off groaning shelves and a few house plants with varying levels of health in various corners. Akechi avoids the large couch and sits on a smaller chair even as Atsuzawa mutters something to the effect of _'wait a minute gotta get ready_ '.

He pats the peach-furred dog because the other had wandered off to follow Atsuzawa. It seems like it had taken a liking to him, putting its head on his knee with its tongue out. It's surprisingly warm, even as Akechi continues to stroke the fur on its forehead and over the shell of the ears. One of them is smaller than the other, ravaged sometime in the past and healed long ago.

"I see Momo took a liking to you," Atsuzawa comes back changed from his loose t-shirt to a more respectable button-down, as wrinkly as ever. Akechi absently wonders if he's ever heard of an iron. "Did Naho send you?"

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san." Akechi replies as he keeps his hand moving on Momo's head, feeling the thin skin underneath his fingers, the ridge of the skull. Delicate. "She says that you weren't answering your phone and that they found an issue that needed your help immediately."

Atsuzawa rolled his eyes even as he tucks himself into his trench-coat, hunching his shoulders in them when they fit comfortably. "Of course they do. I'll call Fusa and get him to send someone to take care of the dogs. Bye, Momo, Pochi. Ugh, stop licking me, I just washed my face."

It takes a few minutes for Atsuzawa to extract himself from his two dogs, quickly shutting the door and locking it before either of the two can slip out, waving Akechi to follow as he strides quickly down the corridor. As they walk past the walls of books, both of them breathing in the smell of aged pages, Akechi hums before finding a topic of conversation.

"Your dogs are very friendly, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says pleasantly as they wait for a streetlight to turn green. Atsuzawa laughter is loud in reply.

"Too friendly," Atsuzawa replies with a wry smile. "You saw how they treated you, right? I bet if a burglar ever broke into my house they'd just lick them to death. Utterly useless," he rolls his eyes fondly as they cross the road and enter the subway.

"What breed are they?" Akechi asks with benign curiosity. It's something that many of the rich ladies who kept their dog in their arms had loved answering when he'd mingled with Shido's goons. But it's also a question that many dog lovers inarguably love to answer, so he tilts his head curiously as to Atsuzawa's answer.

Atsuzawa scrunches his forehead, searching his pockets for his wallet as they neared the ticket gates. "Why does everyone ask that question? I have no idea," he replies as he beeps himself through and looks longingly at a store selling baked cheese tarts down the other side of the station. "You patted Momo, right? Notice anything about her?"

"Are you referring to how one of her ears was quite tattered?"

"Yep," Atsuzawa replies as they enter a subway car and promptly leans bonelessly on a plastic divider, rubbing his eyes. "I adopted the two from one of those animal rescue shelters. Their mom was thrown out when she was pregnant and she gave birth to her litter on the streets." It's with a little grimace that he continues. "They were found after a bunch of kids kicked their mom to death, and some other kid had some sense and called their parents. The other puppies were too starved, and those two were the only two who survived after the rescue. They're scarred a bit under all that fluff, and Pochi runs with a bit of a limp so no-one really wanted them, so I was like whatever and took them in."

Akechi's smile doesn't falter, even if the story does touch the strand of dark cynicism that floats into his mind. It's a story that doesn't particularly surprise Akechi at all. He has seen what children can do for the purposes of fun, what people will do to anything they see as weaker and lesser than them. For feelings of superiority, power, control…

What people will do for validation can be horrifying, after all.

"I feel sorry that your pets had to go through such an experience," Akechi responds. "I've read that humans are at their most violent stage in their toddler ages and early childhood, tempered only by education and a growing understanding of social norms…"

He's stopped in his thoughts when a hand lands heavily on his head. It then proceeds to ruffle his hairstyle until it's unrecognisable, and Akechi bears this with a deadpan silence.

"Kid, _kid,_ don't think too much about it." Atsuzawa's smiling face is lit by the sick white lights of the subway, highlighting its haggard sharp lines. "You're going too deep. There are shitty people, like those who kicked Pochi's mom, and there are great people like those who saved those useless fluff balls in my apartment. The point is, you can't change it, so don't let those things affect you."

Akechi blinks. Other than the vague annoyance he feels that his hair is, once again, ruined, he lets his curiosity show on his face for Atsuzawa to pick up. With a roll of his eyes, Atsuzawa does.

"We're the police, we're supposed the good guys. No-one will be happier than those evil-doers if we get demoralised and depressed and think existential crap. That's why it's our duty as good citizens to live our lives well, got it? Prove to those bad guys that it's just as great to live a great life as a good person."

Akechi rolls the idea around for a little in his mind. It makes sense, that the biggest insult he could give to those who wished for him to fail was to succeed. That's why he had always strived to be the best, after all.

It's perhaps the destination of those thoughts that diverge – while he strove to become the utter best regardless of others, Atsuzawa was promoting life as a 'good person'. Undoubtedly, that means being considerate of others.

As Atsuzawa's words seem to be the key to another rank up in their Arcana, Akechi tucks the idea in the back of his mind as he poses another question.

"Is that why you adopted Momo and Pochi?" Akechi asks, and Atsuzawa leans back now, back to being a boneless noodle leaning against the door.

"Hell no. Who thinks this sort of deep stuff every day? I just wanted a dog, and I thought that they looked fierce. They were kind of scarred and ugly and I was like, hey I'm scarred and ugly too, and took them. Next minute they grow up cute as fuck, and when I take them out for walks my niece laughs about a _moe gap_. Ugh," Atsuzawa groans and Akechi hides a smile behind his hand even as he reaches into his bag and takes out a comb.

"You're not ugly, Atsuzawa-san," he says placatingly, and Atsuzawa raises an eyebrow.

"Coming from our resident pretty-boy? I bet you get a tonne of Valentine day chocolates every year." Akechi keeps pointedly silent as he brushes his hair back to perfection using the dark reflection of the glass on the doors, and Atsuzawa sighs. "Where was my springtime of youth…? Oh right," he remembers with a scowl. "People thought I looked like a gangster, so they picked fights with me all the time and that scared all the girls off. Man, I hated school."

"Careful, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says as he tucks his brush back into his bag, turning back with a shiny smile on his face. "The dignity of your leadership is slipping."

"Impertinent brat," Atsuzawa grins. "We're at our stop, let's go. Let's get to business – know anything about what Naho wants me to do when we get there?"

Akechi climbs the escalator steps with him.

"Mitarai-san wishes that you organise another round-up. An investigator went undercover into a restaurant in Asakusa and has confirmed the presence and dealing of drugs. That isn't all – he identified a relatively famous _ya_ member suspected to be part of the Tenkosai clan, the one which you previously reported had succession issues since the beginning of the year…"

"Great. Let's pick up the pace, Akechi."

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san."

**Justice Rank 3 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


Mitsuru sits in her personal office, legs crossed as she waits for the call the start. It's a large office for the sake of corporate structure and symbolism, to let employees know that this is something that they can work for in their life, but it does create a lot of space that she leaves empty in the excuse of 'minimalism'. There are the normal things, her achievements and past successes, a few bookcases and the token plant to break the monotony of the light cream of the leather sofas and walls.

Her desk is filled with paper, files, and an unobtrusive computer set up, along with a dedicated space for her laptop. However, her eyes are drawn to the corner, where she has placed a few photos.

Because she has set all her photos in special UV reflective glass, none of the colours have faded.

There is a photograph when she was young, and smiling with her father. His face is young and unburdened in their holiday home in Provence, and never fails to bring a smile to her face in nostalgia. Next to that is a photograph where she was officially accepted as the next head of the Kirijo group, surrounded by the trusted directors that she has known since young.

The last one has migrated from her desk since her school years.

Every single member of SEES smile back at her, from Koromaru in the corner to Junpei slinging an arm around Minato whose smile is slight but detectable, Aigis standing right behind him. Yukari sticks close to the boys, smile wide next to Ken and Fuuka, while Mitsuru and Akihiko stand slightly behind with more moderate smiles. It is a blessing in retrospect that Ikutsuki was the one taking the photograph, as this memory is not marred by his presence.

This is a photo that all members of SEES have, something that both inspires joy and the moment of transformed horror when they realised that Minato was not merely sleeping in Aigis's arms.

Her negotiation today is their next key to unravelling a solution.

It's with determination that Mitsuru brushes her hair behind her shoulder, switching on her laptop and busying herself with a few documents for Kirijo group. A proposal for a new marketing strategy for winter sales, preparing new items for Christmas… She's not nearly done when noon approaches, but she sets everything aside in preparation for the incoming call.

She is confident. She has stared down old businessmen who looked at her long hair with derision, competitors who vied for her market share, men who fought for her affection in insidious attempts to take her position in the company and crushed them all under her heel.

Mitsuru Kirijo does not lose.

At noon, all her screens bleed green.

"Hello, Medjed," Mitsuru smiles, red lips spreading in a sumptuous curve. "Shall we begin our negotiation?"

[WE MAY BEGIN, MITSURU KIRIJO]

  


* * *

  


"What do you think, Akechi, Takaki?" Atsuzawa gives him a stack of paper, and Akechi takes the stack and splays them to glance through all their headlines. Profiles. He scans them through and nods, letting Takaki take his own glance through.

"I agree that these homicide cases are a directed message at somebody," Akechi says at a scribbled note Atsuzawa made. "These attacks seem personal. There is no need to intentionally bleed out a body, and assassinations are usually quick and to the point. The amateur set up in both Shion Gen and Eiji Bando's murders are explained as the culprit hired amateurs to do the deed. However, the woman in our custody only explained that she needed to bleed the body out by both wrists per request. That doesn't provide a reason."

"Bleeding the body is a very specific action," Takaki agrees. "It would be a good idea to investigate deaths that have similar causes, including suicide, and investigate whether they're connected to the case. If the murder style is a provocation, we can find out who is being provoked that way."

Akechi nods in reply, and Atsuzawa's sharp gaze cuts to him. "If we proceed with suspecting that Kazuichi Hiroto as the main culprit, then we can try to see if any of those deaths relate to Kazuichi. We need to know who he is directing these messages to, and why. By records and examination of his tattoos, he is not part of the Tenkosai clan that is currently having a succession dispute, but as Asakusa is their shared base of operations, they aren't necessarily completely unrelated."

"I propose this as another avenue of investigation," Akechi gets up to search through his own desk, before pulling out a piece of paper and rejoining Atsuzawa's huddle in the middle of the room. On it is a profile with an artist rendition, a death certificate, and a valid address. "Does anyone remember the Yahiro family? Hideki Shibata is still a missing person, and finding Yahiro might be a clue towards finding him. I have already identified their current address."

"Good, you two!" Atsuzawa's slasher grin is in full force. "Takaki, on the field. Find the Yahiro family, and see if they have any dirt. Akechi, stay in the office and search up records of anyone who has ever died by slit wrists connected to Kazuichi Hiroto, Asakusa area, or the Tenkosai clan. I'm going to finally nail down why this succession dispute is taking so long. Great teamwork, you guys."

Atsuzawa chucks them both a vending machine coffee and waves Takaki to go.

"Kid, you won't feel left out? I'd get you to shadow us if I could, but we're out of hands." Atsuzawa checks in before he leaves, and Akechi gives him a polite chuckle, already beginning to click through the databases.

Research has ever been his forte. His organisational skills had been something no officer had doubted in his last life. He'd been pulled into investigations to help research and organise data many times, his observations on said data, however, dismissed.

That's why he'd liked Sae, after all. Before she transformed into the bitter woman with a Palace, she had listened to him both thoughtfully and sincerely, which made him gravitate to her long before Shido or the SIU Director had advised him to.

He wonders what she's doing now.

"Atsuzawa-san, please rest assured. I'm more than happy to be given such a task. I'll be sure to give you the results by the time you come back."

"What a promise!" Atsuzawa laughs as he walks off. "Don't overwork yourself, but also, that's the spirit, kid! Keep up the great work!"

**Justice Rank 4 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


[I DO NOT APPRECIATE HOW YOU'RE DRAGGING OUT THIS DISCUSSION, MITSURU KIRIJO]

[IT IS NOT HARD TO UNDERSTAND]

[I GIVE YOU BACK YOUR RESEARCH IN EXCHANGE FOR ANY INFORMATION YOU HAVE]

The words bleed strongly across her screens in a threatening tone, but Mitsuru has already relaxed. The past ten minutes has reinforced a few ideas that Mitsuru already had.

One, MEDJED's negotiation style is immature. They are primarily made of demands and threats and are easily overturned by wordplay. A few comments from Mitsuru about the worth of the information in their hand sent MEDJED into a short silence that screamed of petulance.

This fits with her previous profiling of MEDJED's activities, even before direct contact. Hacking to expose corporate corruption and loudly announcing their declarations with lines such as 'We are MEDJED, we are unseen, we will eliminate evil' reeks of youth activism. MEDJED is most probably young, at most early twenties.

With this lack of social skill, however, Mitsuru is estimating their age to be somewhere in their mid to early teens.

Second, their digital prowess is not to be underestimated. She had quickly asked Fuuka a favour last night to track what MEDJED had done to access Kirijo's systems so deeply, and Fuuka's polite reply had been brimming with admiration even as she helped resolve the issues MEDJED left behind.

Knowing this, Mitsuru now prepares the true meat of her response.

"My apologies. I will come to my final question," Mitsuru says, tone switching to her normal, brisk pace. "The content of your demands are not on course for your usual agenda, Medjed. Targeting large corporations, illuminating corruption, exposing insidious government policies… those have been the majority of your actions. However, your demands this time are far more personal."

The chat stalls enough that Mitsuru knows that she has hit a pressure point.

"If I'm guessing correctly, and you do not wish harm on the true person behind Nana Momoda… we don't need to negotiate at all. We can cooperate instead. We seem to both wish to illuminate who Wakaba Ishikki's partner is, after all."

MEDJED does not reply. The screen is filled with their past discussion. Mitsuru has not even hinted at the fact that she didn't know who Wakaba Ishikki had been working with, or that fact that they are still in the middle of investigating the conspiracy themselves until now. She has faced with enough old foxes in her industry to talk like the best.

[DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WHO ISHIKKI'S PARTNER IS, OR THE CONSPIRACY TARGETING HER?]

"Yes," Mitsuru says, voice firm.

[WHAT? THEN WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING HER?]

"This is something that I can only tell you if you agree to proper cooperation," Mitsuru voice businesslike. Undoubtedly MEDJED is watching through her computer's cameras, and she doesn't break posture even once. It's with special severity that she says her next line. "I will not risk Ishikki's personal safety, even at the expense of any of Kirijo's secret documents you hold."

[…]

[ALRIGHT, MITSURU KIRIJO]

[BUT ONLY IF YOU FULFIL MY FIRST DEMAND]

[I WISH TO MEET HER]

"That's contradictory," Mitsuru shakes her head. "If I won't tell you information about why we protect her because we haven't come to an agreement, why would I agree to let her meet you? You must know that we placed her in such stringent protection because of repeated assassination attempts. To arrange your entry to meet her, I will need to know your identity regardless."

After a slight pause, MEDJED replies.

[HE SAID SOMEONE WAS WATCHING ME]

[I DON'T KNOW IF THEY STILL ARE]

[…]

[ALRIGHT MITSURU KIRIJO. I'LL TRUST YOU. I'VE ELIMINATED YOU FROM MY CONSPIRACY SUSPECT LIST, AFTER ALL]

[I AM FUTABA ISHIKKI, WAKABA ISHIKKI'S DAUGHTER]

[I WISH TO MEET HER]

"That is certainly a surprise," Mitsuru says even though MEDJED has fallen into her palm as she planned. She certainly didn't plan this. "From memory, aren't you twelve?"

[I'm thirteen!] The text promptly writes in protest, and Mitsuru sits back in her chair.

As much as SEES had recruited Ken when he was ten, it wasn't purely by choice. He had been a precious Persona user in a time where resources to fight the Dark Hour was limited. Now that she isn't so limited, she much prefers recruiting those in adulthood or at least nearing there.

[Don't retract your previous statement now that you know who I am!]

"Of course not. If you are truly Futaba Ishikki, I will never stop a child from meeting her mother."

[You better keep your promise. I still have those confidential documents you know.]

[:U]

[I'll send you something secure to contact me after this so I don't need to do the Medjed logo every time.]

[Keep your promise! Or else. ://]

The connection cuts and Mitsuru squints at the strange line of symbols. A colon and two dashes?

A colon and a capital U?

What do those mean?

  


* * *

  


Akechi stands to the side as the others do the heavy work. Although he had proven himself as an excellent on-scene organiser, he arrived too late to truly contribute this time. It's only five-thirty and the round-up is almost finished. Settling near the back with coffee cups on hand, he watches as police finish cleaning out the building and take another three men into police cars for custody.

 _"Drugs weren't in the basement this time,"_ comes Atsuzawa's scratchy voice through a walkie talkie. _"We caught them just on time, they were loaded in trucks in the back."_

"Good job, Atsuzawa," Akechi hears the officer reply. "Rendezvous with Mikami's team at the entrance."

After Atsuzawa's confirmation, it doesn't take long for the rest of the police teams to come back out. By then, Akechi's wandered close enough to the building that he manages to greet the tall figure of Atsuzawa as he steps out, greeting Akechi with a large grin when he sees the coffee in his hands.

"Gimme, I'm nearly dead." When he receives the cup he nearly pours the hot liquid down his throat. It's only after he's finished gulping the whole cup that he turns to Akechi. "We got a big break. We've nailed down a guy who's a bit famous today from the Tenkosai clan. If we get this guy to crack, we can probably find their hideout."

"That's great, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, before bowing slightly in apology. "I apologise for arriving late and missing the opportunity to shadow you during this raid."

"There's always next time," Atsuzawa shrugs, speaking to a few other police officers to confirm a few things before waving Akechi into one of the police cruisers and entering the driver's seat. Tokyo streets soon pass by at a steady pace, drivers comically slowing down the moment they spotted them. As they weren't on traffic patrol, Atsuzawa ignores it. "Anything you want to report?"

"I've compiled a list of suicides on your desk that you can review later, Atsuzawa-san. Takaki wished to report this himself, but from interviewing the Yahiros, he has a hunch that Kazuichi Hiroto has a side-hustle consisting of giving others fake identities. He'll get back to you soon."

"That's great. I got a little feedback from my _ya_ contacts, so let's mix and match all of that at Headquarters. The gang was a little resistant this time, so it took a little longer to get what I want. It's the first time they were so firm, heh."

"Atsuzawa-san, I've always wondered," Akechi asks, voice carefully balanced with an appropriate amount of curiosity. It's a question he truly wants answered, with a suspicion that it was a key towards raising their Arcana. It would, at least, provide stimulating discussion. "You have never truly spoken about the _yakuza_ positively, but you're famous for actively collaborating with them. Even amid criticism, you don't change. May I ask why?"

"You wondering why I turn a blind eye, hmm?" Atsuzawa glances away from the road to Akechi, who is sitting politely.

"To be frank." Akechi nods.

"Well, there's no right or wrong answer, firstly," Atsuzawa muses as they drive straight into a clogged road. There's no irritation in Atsuzawa's face when they do merge into the snail-slow speed of Tokyo's peak hour traffic, merely taking the opportunity to lean forward onto the steering wheel.

"Crime's always going to exist, one way or another. When I took up my position, I had a choice – to keep those existing relationships with organisations like the yakuza and know what they're doing, or arrest everything I can see and know the majority is still there in the woodwork, only they're hiding better. Both have pros and cons, and after thinking on it I chose the first. The yakuza have an honour code, and one of them is to avoid implicating civilians. That and some other things made me decide to monitor them instead of hauling them to jail. The moment they overstep those boundaries though, they know I'll hunt them down."

"I see," Akechi muses. It's not one of Atsuzawa's opinions that he can apply to his situation with Shido. For one, he doubts if a man like him has any sort of honour code in the first place.

After their deal, Shido had been lying low, not really demanding anything and putting on pressure. Although he has a feeling that Shido is planning something behind his back, he only has a few guesses as to what they are. Akechi knows he is a pawn that has run away, but waiting for retaliation was a tiring process.

"I'm not going to decide what's right or wrong with a question like this," Atsuzawa shrugs. "You can tolerate the yakuza if you want, or you can go on a hard-line approach, but in the end, all you have to make sure is to not regret your choice afterwards."

Akechi's attention piques. Regret?

Grey eyes crinkling, coffee, the low sound of late-night news. A gun, and a belated realisation.

An early text in the morning.

_I was a fool._

They inch along the traffic with the air conditioning set to warm, and Akechi wonders.

"How would you avoid becoming someone with too many regrets, Atsuzawa-san?"

"Simple," Atsuzawa replies, eyes on the next car as he inches carefully forward. "Make the best decision you can on what you currently know, so that even when you know more later on you can say to yourself, _'If I knew only what I knew then, I would still choose what I did'_. Then learn and move on."

A million universes, a million decisions and revisions.

"The best choice, hm?" Akechi brings a smile to his face that eliminates any wistfulness that he may feel, leaning back to let his head lean on the headrest.

It may be simple, as he will not choose Shido this time, over and over again. He is undeserving of even a chance.

But also difficult, for he is still deciding what a _'good choice'_ is. A good person is a person who does good deeds. But was it truly? In the past, he had offered tutoring to feed his superiority, mocking his classmates for struggling with easy questions in his head. In any sense of the word, that does not particularly sound like what a 'good' person would do. Even in law, intent is a large part of criminal prosecution, and here lies his struggle. Which is better: to watch bricks being thrown while joining in the laughter, or watch bricks being thrown while striving to feel horrible?

Or is it to stop the bricks from being thrown while feeling nothing at all?

Sincerity of it aside, his pleasant façade makes everyone around him happy. He has mastered Saito's _amae_ , he knows what each and every one of the people around him wants. He provides it, with flattery, laughter, smiles, and compliments. Past experience has told him, over and over again, that the best choice is to please the people around him.

He doesn't know.

"Yep," Atsuzawa replies, oblivious to his intern's internal crisis. "It's hard to do though."

"Indeed," Akechi acquiesces, a little wry, before going back to scroll the news on his new phone.

**Justice Rank 5 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


"I don't know about this, this is all so sudden," Sojiro says in concern, and Futaba pouts.

"I know I didn't mention that I applied for the youth's tech convention, but that's because I didn't think I'd get a ticket! I-I know it's bad for me to delay going back to school, so I just applied for things I was interested in to get me out of the house again!"

Futaba says this quickly, lugging her hand-carry around. "It's just for two nights anyway! It'll be _fiinee_. I'm sorry for springing it on you though! I forgot to check my physical mail until yesterday and then I saw I got invited!"

"S-still," Sojiro insists. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Futaba? It's quite far away for your first trip outside by yourself."

"Yep!" Futaba grins, placing her hands on her hips to hide how they were shaking. "I even packed my mask, so I'll be uber fine! Don't worry, Sojiro!"

"Call me the moment you get there," Sojiro tells her, "and stick close to the supervisors. Actually, why can't I go with you again?"

At the bus stop is several other teenagers, youth from Futaba's age all the way towards eighteen. There's a large coach bus waiting for the children to finish saying goodbyes to their guardians, and a well-dressed woman with a name-tag smiles when she overhears their conversation.

"Don't worry," she says warmly. "The International Science and Technology Youth Convention is a prestigious event that we take with utmost seriousness. We place the highest priority on our attendee's safety, and are officially affiliated with the Japanese Educational Board."

"Yeah! I'm super excited!"

She's hamming it up a little – okay, maybe a lot – but Sojiro had always been a sucker for her smiles. It's not as if she ever acted often, so there's no reason to doubt, right?

"As long as you're fine with it," Sojiro caves just as she expected, smile wry and fond as he reaches out to pull her into a hug. It's something that Futaba can't help but melt a little into, craving a bit of security, before there are calls to board the coach. "Be safe, and call me anytime. I'll drive up there to fetch you if it gets too much, alright?"

"A-alright," Futaba tries not to let her voice shake as she leaves Sojiro's warm, bony hug. "I'll make sure to call when I get there!"

After running up the stairs of the bus to avoid looking at the driver, Futaba curls herself into a window seat, taking off her shoes to tuck her feet on the edge as she waves goodbye to her guardian. Although the bus fills up, there are more seats than people and its with a breath of relief that no-one tries to sit next to her.

She's nearing level 99 on an arcade game ported to mobile when they get there, and the kind teachers usher them out of the bus and into a tall, fancy hotel. There, Futaba silently pulls her luggage forward as she joins the line to the reception, placing her ID silently to the smiling woman when she becomes first in line.

"Futaba Ishikki? Wait a second…" The receptionist's eyes widen a little, before handing her a card that's slightly different from the rest of the students. "Here you go. Please go to the waiting area to the right. An attendant will be with you shortly."

Futaba nods mutely, before hurrying into the quiet waiting area before anyone notices. It's private, for one, having ferns and frosted screens dividing the area, but what draws Futaba's attention is the bowl of complimentary fruit on the table.

She's halfway through an apple when she hears a voice.

"Are you Futaba-san?" A gentle voice asks, and Futaba whirls around in shock to see a beautiful blond girl. Her blue eyes crinkle in a welcoming smile. "Nice to meet you. My name is Aigis."

"I-it's you!" Futaba blurts out before her voice gets stuck in her throat. With it comes the familiar sensation of oxygen fleeing her lungs as if her lungs were a burning building and they were all fleeing for their lives, and the short bursts edge her into panic wondering if it'll be a _panic_. With a quick flap of her hands, slaps the large doll mask that was sitting on top of her luggage and plops it on her head. In moments, Aigis is staring at the huge painted eyes on bright paper mâché. Also, Aigis notes, the girl immediately stands more confidently, breath easing. Social phobia?

After another minute where Aigis wonders if she should give the girl a little more time, Futaba points at her. "You're the girl that keeps sitting next to my mom's bed!"

"I see you've been watching me," Aigis nods. "I've heard from Mitsuru senpai that your hacking capability is as strong as another friend of mine, which is impressive. I don't know if you've heard of the hacker Lucia?"

"Lucia?!" Futaba squawks, instantly distracted. "No way, you know her? She's amazing! She doesn't show herself much in the community though. It's such a shame."

Aigis smiles, gesturing Futaba to walk first to a side exit of the hotel. "Yes, I know her. I know a little hacking myself, but it's not my specialty. I'd be glad if you can fix the hospital's systems so that no other hacker can access us with your visit, Futaba-san."

"I won't mind," Futaba mutters as she carefully steps into the expensive looking car that Aigis leads her to, her luggage taken by a professionally dressed man in a suit and sunglasses and placed in the boot. "If it'll keep my mom safe, I'll even add some of the extra traps I'm working on."

"My deepest thanks," Aigis replies.

The car-ride turns through the city towards the edge, where a large private hospital sits near the edge of town next to a gleaming river. Aigis slips her hand around Futaba's mask before she can whack it straight into the car door, the large bobbling head attracting gazes as she steps out.

Aigis pays them no mind though, as she leads Futaba inside the hospital. Nurses do double-takes when they see Aigis walking in the corridors carefully leading another girl behind in a large mask. Whispers quickly follow.

("Did, did I just see that?")

("They're VVIPs," another nurse urgently hisses. "Don't judge the actions of rich people, keep your head down!")

Futaba can't hear much besides the echoing of her own breath and louder noises like the piercing shriek of a baby down the corridor. She follows the blonde girl in front feeling kind of like a Gundam, all joints and no flesh, as she nears the room her mom is in. She knows. She ripped the blueprints of the hospital from their database.

"We're here," Aigis gives Futaba a smile that she doesn't really register because the opened door reveals a woman lying in bed that she thought she lost forever.

The mask is thrown off into the corner as Futaba races the few steps inside. Shoulder-length black hair, too many wires and machines to count. There are burn marks on her forehead and remnants of stitches, but it's undoubtedly her _mom_.

Mom, who woke up early to make her a bento every morning even when she was super busy. Piecing figurines together on the weekend when a new order came in, trying to shove plastic joints where they should fit and laughing at the ridiculous poses they make them. Mom, who always gave her a hug after their arguments and smelled like a weird mix of chemicals and lemongrass and taught her anything she wanted to know and encouraged her to finish her wish lists because _'responsibility is important, Futaba! Finish what you start, okay?'_

Futaba's eyes well up in tears as she desperately scrubs her face with her sleeve. When a tissue appears in her vision, she takes it to blow her nose violently.

"Mom, I missed you," Futaba manages to say through a clogged nose, eyes still tearing up. "Everything was really bad when I thought you died, but you sent me your jerk of a friend and I'm living with Sojiro now, and I'm so glad that you, you're _okaaay_."

The last word turns into a long, drawn-out sound that transforms into a bawl, and a hand pats her back when she blows her nose into the tissue again.

"Do you want some tea?" Aigis asks, holding a cup in her hand, and Futaba nods through hiccups, taking it with both hands and nearly spilling it over half her face when she takes an especially hard sniff.

When the other girl calmed down a little, Aigis prepares her questions. Although Futaba does retrieve her mask from the floor to answer her, she mostly gets her answers.

A tale of how Futaba made a friend over the course of a month, who tried to take care of her when no-one would.

"GA was really paranoid, and I never did figure out how he always knew where I was moved to," Futaba muttered, crouching on her chair, mask tilted towards her mother's face. "But he _saved_ me. We watched Featherman together. He replied to my lame memes with lamer responses, like why the gravity of a photoshopped picture wasn't logical. He's all anti-hero-y like Blue and I was going to be Green, but he gave me some sort of test first. I failed," Futaba mumbles. Her small hands cradle one of her mother's limp ones, playing with her fingers. Aigis can't see through the large doll mask, but the forlorn way her words were spoken gives her a pang of sympathy. "He was there one second, and poof! He was empty air the next."

Aigis listens to this with a thoughtful frown on her face.

  


* * *

  


"Give me a short report, Aigis."

Mitsuru listens to Aigis through a video call, leaning back into her chair as she thinks it all through.

"With this in mind, I can't help but re-evaluate the Tokyo Area as a place of high Metanormal activity. This is what I've found." Aigis shares a vision of a graph, and the gradual dip in it. "Analysis shows that despite Shadow activity rising in many other areas of Japan, Tokyo has had a drastic decrease in the past few months. In fact…" Aigis highlights, "it seems like since the beginning of last year, Shadow activity had been decreasing gradually until it hit zero percent by the beginning of June. Since then, Shadow Operatives have not been deployed in the Tokyo Area because it has been deemed a safe area. As of two months ago, due to our limited staff, we officially pulled out our last member to manage other affairs."

"A trend we haven't placed too much importance in until now," Mitsuru says. "However, the larger a natural meta-normal incident, the more bizarre the entry conditions," Mitsuru muses, watching the solid orange sunset descend upon the world. "The Dark Hour, the Television World, and now a boy that can melt into thin air, as if he's stumbled on a way to enter a distortion that we cannot enter yet…"

Aigis nods and continues. "If we take Futaba-san's statements into account about GA, it confirms that this is the boy that saved Wakaba Ishikki and sent us the report. If he worked with Wakaba's research, he knows about Shadows, and perhaps a level of cognitive psience. He's also working under duress underneath someone, ordered to finish matters he is reluctant to finish. It seems like there is a new incident rising in Tokyo that we can't sense, and perhaps another wave of naturally awoken Persona users arising."

Mitsuru frowns, staring out her office window. It's a beautiful view of the sunset over a concrete jungle, of a type of energy that only humans can create. Many lights have already flickered on in apartments and office buildings, millions of squares standing testament from the encroaching night. It grounds her, even while her coat feels heavy on her shoulders as she pieces the implications of the day's information in her head.

She imagines a young boy who just awakened to their power, like Ken. Although Ken is now sixteen and is a bright young man who she enjoys catching up with, now and again, listening to his stories of high school and indulging reminiscence, she imagines a scenario where Ken was still ten and taken by another Meta-aware organisation who wished to do evil.

Awakening his Persona and being told to pry open transmogrified coffins in the Dark Hour. When the soul is freed and eaten by prowling Shadows, Ken being pinned with the blame of another Apathy Syndrome victim before being threatened as the cause of the incident and shackled to the organisation's whims.

It's a thought that makes her clench her teeth in _fury_.

"Right now we have no jurisdiction in Tokyo, whether through design or coincidence," Mitsuru says sombrely, clenching her sleeves to rein in her anger from her voice and posture. "The government has always been wary of us, and if we make a move with no reason to return they may treat us with hostility."

"What can we do?"

"There is no difference. Although we can continue investigations, Futaba Ishikki's statements do not hold enough identifiers for us to create a solid profile. The main key to everything is still Wakaba Ishikki. We need to wait for her to wake up. Continue protecting her, Aigis."

Aigis solemnly nods.

"Understood."  


* * *

  
  
  
  


  
"What is fate?" Akechi had once asked.

 _"Fate,"_ said his friend in reply, _"is the choice of all beings culminated into a single point in time."_

A fleeting smile, the faint rattling of a distant chain.

_"That is why it is so hard to break. We are, in essence, singular. A single grain of sand on a beach."_

_"It doesn't mean that it is impossible, however."_

A laugh.

_"Don't I stand testament to that?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I wanted to add more but then the 'more' became 'five scenes' and then the cliffhanger I wanted to drop became a whole debacle and this chapter has a lot of STUFF in it already even though its not like thrilling and I was like GAAAH  
> By the way, your comments are so lovely! Some are so entertaining to read hehehe, and your speculations! Some of them are so on point that I'm like, oh my gosh I'm blessed with so many intelligent readers HOW CAN I PLOT TWIST NOW SHOULD I REFRAIN FROM FORESHADOWING MY FAVE TECHNIQUE. I was so tempted to answer and then spoil everything so I'm glad I refrained. Thank you very much!  
> I can't wait for P5 to start either, because that's when I can start shoving Akira and Akechi together to be awkward. By my current plans, I'll get there by chapter 21/22 so @_@  
> (also we hit 1000 guys we're probs gonna plateau now but guys wow, wowie, hit me, is Akechi becoming more wholesome yet. probs not, there was a tonne of dialogue in this chapter and less time to delve into Akechi's overthinking pfft)  
> I was _going_ to finish the majority of Atsuzawa's arc today but Futaba and Mitsuru took up a lot of space but... Akechi has some support now! Even though he's too paranoid to know he has it, but he does! And Futaba saw Wakaba :D  
> (i love fluffy animals, so now atsuzawa has two cute fluffy dogs that are two floofs and they are not plot relevant but will get paragraphs of descriptions whenever they appear ok. )  
> I've read a lot of concerning things this week - please stay safe and sane everyone. ^^ I wish you all the best, see you next week! I'll edit typos throughout the week


	19. Chapter 19

"Kazuma and Shibusawa," Atsuzawa provides in office, as all three wait to report their own findings. "I finally wheedled their identities out of the old men. Here."

He places two photos on the table. One is a blurry side profile of a short, but stocky older man, approximately in his forties surrounded by bodyguards. The other photo is of a younger man, perhaps late twenties, with strong features coming out of a hotel.

"Remember the Tenkosai clan in Asakusa? Well, these are the two people who still haven't resolved the succession dispute. The older one is Shibusawa, the previous head's nephew, while the younger one is Kazuma, the previous head's grandson. They're both pretty competent and it's the typical story – the conservatives prefer Shibusawa, the younger generation likes Kazuma, and they've been cats and dogs since last year."

Takaki frowns seriously at the two pictures, contemplating, as Akechi tries to match these portraits to the drug and murder cases they had been chasing.

Takaki straightens up first. "Please look at my evidence. Akechi-kun, you were onto something, when you said that we should track down the Yahiro family. Remember Morio Yahiro, who was supposed to have died? I found his little sister living in Akihabara, which isn't too far from Asakusa. After promising that her identity will be anonymous on record, she told me that Morio's truly not dead. Here's the evidence she provided."

Takaki opens up his bag and pours it onto the table - stacks and stacks of fake IDs, with all sorts of generic faces and photographs already prepared on them. Takaki nods solemnly.

"Morio's been forcing his sister to let him use her apartment as a base for his fake identity operation. Apparently, Hideki Shibata was a family friend, and when Morio was nearly caught in a serious assault and robbery case out of town, Shibata stepped up and gave Morio a fake identity so he could escape criminal liability. Since then, Morio has been part of Shibata's group."

"Then it can be assumed that Shibata is still safe somewhere," Atsuzawa says, picking up one of the fake IDs and examining it. "If the witness saw Morio evacuating Shibata and Morio is Shibata's friend."

Akechi looks at his two senior investigators then and reaches backwards for a folder on his table.

"May I please have your attention, Atsuzawa-san? Takaki-san?" Akechi takes the most recent piece of paper onto the table. A printed colour picture of a man's back stands out on the table of monochrome documents, figures of fierce red oni and azure dragons with long whiskers intertwining in front of the rays of a rising sun. "Do you remember how we've been raiding restaurants that had a relation to Kazuichi's affiliated yakuza clan? The yakuza man we managed to apprehend hasn't cracked, but someone in interrogations managed to recognise his tattoos. It all ties together - the rising sun motif is most commonly associated with the Tenkosai clan."

"Ugh, great," Atsuzawa immediately groans. "Just what I feared. That's why the old men were so reluctant to tell me their names."

Takaki frowns up at Atsuzawa, but Akechi's mind is already racing ahead.

Before this, although there was suspicion that Shion Gen's murder and drug peddling was related to a larger power, the yakuza clan had been one option out of many. As everything is tying together, it seems obvious Tenkosai and all its succession issues were the main culprit.

Atsuzawa's immediate dismay…

"Atsuzawa-san," Akechi sits straight, furrowing his brows. With one hand on his chin, he reasoned it out. "Are you suspecting that they may be trying to use the police force to solve their succession dispute?"

"Wait, what?" Takaki glanced back down at the documents in front of him.

"We've previously established that the murders are sending a deliberate message," Akechi explained his thought process, glancing over all the documents on the table. "Other than the fact that they were murdered strangely and sloppily using disposable pieces like the woman we caught in Nishi, it was their murder that led to uncovering a deeper drug ring that led to Atsuzawa being pulled on board. Hideki Shibata's disappearance placed increased importance on Eiji Bando's murder. All three cases seem like bait."

Takaki frowns. "I see. However, there's still a distinct difference between Hideki Shibata and the other two cases. Shibata is still just a missing person, while the other two were murdered."

"It doesn't matter," Akechi shakes his head, putting his hand down now that he's more confident with his train of logic. "With the affiliated man in Kazuichi's restaurants being related to the Tenkosai, with the premises we raided holding Shibata's drugs, we now come full circle. We can assume that Kazuichi is affiliated with the Tenkosai. Therefore, it is simple to surmise the relation. Someone approached Kazuichi, who has a network of criminals under his command and is removed from the immediate impacts of the succession dispute, to strike the blow. Once done, officials like Atsuzawa will take the case and slowly unravel the mystery, leading to one of the two leaders."

"Oh, I get it. Other than the succession dispute," Takaki says thoughtfully, "there's no real reason to do such obvious crimes for the Tenkosai right now."

"Yes, Takaki-san," Akechi nods, sliding Takaki's research closer to him so he could read it. "Peddling drugs is a way to get rich fast – and I imagine having enough capital is an important aspect of nurturing trust in your followers. Dealing with an illegal drug ring can be a major hit to a group. If we only get rid of the drug ring, we'll help the opposition. If we get rid of the drug ring and track down who is responsible, we will resolve the succession altogether."

"I hate being used," Atsuzawa groans, sliding down his chair. "I think so too, Akechi. Everyone knows I don't tolerate drugs, murder, and illegal trafficking." He scrubbed his eyes tiredly with a sleeve. "I don't mind watching people play with fire if they're not using _me_ as the fire."

"Then there's a problem," Takaki frowns. "Discounting Shibata for now, Gen and Bando's murders have different motives. Shion Gen was a drug dealer, but Eiji Bando was lying low. Even though my investigations into the town revealed it had been a past base of sorts, Bando didn't even come up on the radar."

"Was there miscommunication going on between Kazuichi and the mastermind?" Akechi wonders.

"While we think on that, give me your reports on those suicides, Akechi. Give me a short report. Who's most relevant? That'll probably give us a clue on whose faction is using us to target the other."

Shook out of thought, Akechi blinks for a moment before nodding. "Right, Atsuzawa-san, the full report is on your desk. The ones highlighted in pink are related to the yakuza, green for Asakusa area. I didn't find any links to Kazuichi directly."

"Got it," Atsuzawa nods and starts flipping through the folder and Akechi turns towards Takaki with the lingering question in his mind.

"Takaki-san, why do you suspect that Morio Yahiro's fake identity business isn't part of the yakuza, but instead one of Kazuichi's side-hustles?"

Takaki shrugs his large shoulders. "First, he doesn't have tattoos. Second, his sister said he got jobs based on commission, like the woman we arrested. Seems like good enough for a hunch."

"I see," Akechi smiles and nods in thanks, and Takaki beams back just in time for Atsuzawa's page flipping to stop. Both look at him, as Atsuzawa places the folder down and does a quick search. Only a minute later, Atsuzawa sighs.

"No need to look further." He points to a name highlighted in both pink and green. "This is Kazuma's sister. Apparently, she committed suicide back in 2010. Found in the bath-tub with slit wrists."

"…So if the murder is a taunt targeting Kazuma, we suspect Shibusawa as the main culprit for the murder while the drug ring is Kazuma's?" Takaki asks immediately, before scrunching his eyebrows. "But it's such an obvious taunt, what if this is Kazuma's move to place the suspicion on Shibusawa?"

"Is it time for more investigations, boys?" Naho sticks her head in, a smile on her face. Seeing the mess on the table, she prods her glasses back up her nose. "I hope you've been productive because I bought dinner!" She waves large bags of takeout in her hands from Big Bang Burger.

"Dinner!" Takaki beams, immediately standing up to take the bags from her hands while Akechi starts efficiently clearing the table. "You didn't have to, Naho-san! You are entirely too kind!"

Naho smiles back. "Now that's some polite appreciation! Thank you, Yoji-kun. A certain somebody should learn, shouldn't they?"

"Can you not nag me for _one_ day, Naho?" Atsuzawa asks, even as he perks up at the smell of burgers wafting through the air. When Takaki places the large bags onto the table, Atsuzawa quickly sneaks a hand in to steal a few chips before anyone can even look at the contents.

The burgers are eaten quickly when they are distributed though, Naho only sticking around for half that time before needing to hurry off to an appointment or another, and Takaki watches her go with a glowing expression on his face.

"Isn't Naho-san so perfect?" He sighs wistfully, and Akechi raises an assessing eyebrow at him as he wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin. "She's so professional and organised, and she cares for us so much…"

Atsuzawa lazily eats another chip as he scrolls on his laptop. "As I've said a thousand times before, Takaki, Naho's single. Ask her out if you want."

"Oh, no, I could never," Takaki shoots up, face red to the ears. "She's an amazing lady, smart and efficient and patient, she can go for anyone! I'm just a greenhorn who's younger than her by five years… and she's also my superior, Atsuzawa-san. I make so little money, I barely pay rent… Except for my sincere feelings, I have absolutely nothing to offer her!"

"Yeah, Naho cares about none of that crap," Atsuzawa rolls his eyes. "Just go for it, she likes hardworking guys."

"Even so, Naho-san deserves someone better than a person who has only worked hard and has achieved nothing!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep on mooning," Atsuzawa smirks before he turns to Akechi. "Kid, it's getting late, you can go home for today. I'll arrange a prison interrogation for our friend Kazuichi tomorrow, but it might be during your school hours. You think you'll be okay reporting to Naho before seeing if you can join us?"

"Alright, Atsuzawa-san. However, if you permit, I can always apply to leave early from school," Akechi offers, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"Hey, Mister Scholarship Student, you shouldn't talk about skipping so easily." Sticking a lollipop in his mouth, Atsuzawa grins while crushing the sugar between his teeth. "We've got a lot of progress done today, and I know we split up quite a bit, but remember. We're a team."

"And teams work together and depend on each other!" Takaki finishes the sentence on a loud exclamation. Atsuzawa eyes Takaki with a grumble.

"Don't steal my moment, Takaki. Giving advice is my job, you know?"

"Sorry, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki cheerfully salutes, and Akechi can't help the small smile that comes somewhere from a confused tangle of emotion in his chest. It's warm, the strong back-clap Takaki gives Akechi as he passes by him to the exit. Police Headquarters last time had never been such a welcome sight after school before, always somewhat of a chore as officer after officer would pull him over to help with miscellaneous tasks they didn't want to do themselves.

"See you tomorrow, Akechi-kun!" Takaki sticks his head out of the door and waves against Atsuzawa's bark to sit down and work, and Akechi waves back over his shoulder.

He leaves with bags of trash in his hands, casually dumping it all in a larger trashcan by the elevator. Even seeing a few previous colleagues from his past life in the elevator who had constantly mocked him for being a _'Detective Prince'_ didn't bring down the strange sense of serenity he felt.

Somehow, it's hard to think bitter things in their company.

It had been the same with Minato, with Wakaba.

With Akira, in moments when he let Shido's orders to kill him fade to the back of his mind.

Perhaps, Akechi thinks as he takes the long way back to his dorm, that is what friends are for.

**Justice Rank 6 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


"They're not in a good mood," Naho whispers to him the moment he passes her next afternoon, and Akechi gives her a sympathetic grimace.

"Did the interrogation with Hiroto not go to plan?"

"The opposite, actually," Naho replies, wiping her glasses with her shirt and putting it back on her face. "Hiroto was actually really forthcoming with his part in the whole affair the moment they sat down with him. He admitted guilt for both Gen and Bando's deaths and admitted that he evacuated Shibata too. He's going to go to trial again for all of that, but that's not the point."

Akechi waits as they pace towards their small office.

"Hiroto admitted he was affiliated with the Tenkosai clan, but he denied giving more details as to who told him to target Gen, Shibata and Bando. It doesn't help that Atsuzawa-san thinks he has his own motives…"

"He's given us a date!" Atsuzawa hollers through the doorway. "I can hear you, you know!"

"I'm telling Akechi-kun what you would anyway," Naho retorts right back, before waving Akechi through and following him. "But I'll let you finish."

"Basically Hiroto was being a sly bitch and didn't give us any confirmation on things we wanted to know but gave us a date and two locations," Atsuzawa scowls, even as Naho narrows his eyes at him.

"Atsuzawa, language!"

"God, Naho, he's a teen! He probably swears like a sailor the moment he's not with adults!"

"I usually refrain from swearing, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies politely, and Naho shoots Atsuzawa a vindicated smile. Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"Of course you don't. Anyway, he hasn't given us much time to prepare. December fifteenth, there are two locations he gave us in Asakusa, and he's promised that both the Tenkosai heirs will be in the buildings at six PM. One's a karaoke bar, the other is a love hotel."

"And today is the ninth," Akechi frowns. "Six days is…"

"Tight? Yeah, I know. I've already sent Takaki to investigate the karaoke bar, and you caught me just as I was going to go to the love hotel. Other than that, Naho is going to start applying for men and warrants so that the moment we come back we can start preparing. Hitting two places at once is a pretty big op. Sorry kid, I'd ask you to shadow me today if I'm not investigating a love hotel."

"I wouldn't have allowed it anyway," Naho says with a warm smile, and Atsuzawa fakes a shiver.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to make Naho angry, she runs the office. Anyway, look over our interrogation with Hiroto if you want, and you can help Naho with applications today, alright?"

Atsuzawa rushes out of the office on that swift goodbye, and Naho turns her smile at Akechi.

"I've already taught you these applications before, Akechi-kun. I don't mind doing all of these by myself if you want a break today. Sorry for not telling you before so you didn't have to drag yourself all the way here."

"No, it's fine. Maybe I'll leave early today. Around five-thirty, perhaps? But I'll gladly assist you until then, Mitarai-san."

Naho's smile warms a few degrees, and they both head to their desks. Akechi scans Hiroto's interrogation, transcribing and filing it accurately into their case folder before assisting Naho with applying for assistance from the general force and leaving early with her blessing.

Sometimes, Akechi wonders if Fate is really so kind, as he buttons up his coat and pulls a scarf around his neck. His case in hand, he walks out the door and wind through the corridors and offices of other special investigation units.

There was something he'd wanted to do on the 9th of December, 2014.

When he meanders past general investigations, a familiar voice cuts through the soft hubbub of the office.

"I'm asking you to provide evidence!"

There's an emphatic note to the sharp voice, as someone slams a folder onto a table, and Akechi lets his gaze drift naturally across the area just like many others. The familiar grey head of hair is leaning forward intimidating a cowed young man, sharp eyes narrowed. Her suit is immaculately put together, ironed and professional as Sae Niijima purses her lips in impatience.

"If you don't get me this evidence now, I can't close this case and put a sexual abuser behind bars. Is that what you want?" She demands to the man, who sweats a bit as he rolls his chair backwards.

"Ah, Prosecutor Niijima, it's nothing personal. Yoneda-san asked me to refrain giving more evidence for now as things are inconclusive."

Sae does an impressive snort of disdain. " _Him_ again," she says, straightening up with one impatient finger tapping the table. "Of course it's inconclusive, he's spineless. I bet he's already buried this case under another five and told you that the department is too busy, am I right?"

"Eep!" The man responds, and Akechi hides a laugh behind his palm from his position in the corridor.

Sae's frank honesty is as refreshing as ever.

"Just give me what you have," Sae sighs, and the man quickly rifles through his desk and passes a thick folder into Sae's hands. Sae looks at it with a sour look on her face. "Paper? You don't have any digital versions?"

"Sorry, Prosecutor Niijima! Yoneda-san said you can't access our network with your current level of security!"

"I see. Well, if you find any _conclusive_ evidence in the next week, please contact me as soon as possible." Sae replies and turns around to exit. Akechi has by then pretended to walk quickly past the doorway, timed so that Akechi would knock the folder from Sae's hands.

The folder falls to the floor and spills everywhere, and Sae looks absolutely _done_.

"I don't have time for this," she mutters with her hand to her forehead, as Akechi immediately puts on his most regretful face and bows.

"My deepest apologies, I'll help you pick these up."

As he bends down and starts picking up the papers, Sae sighs and does so too.

"No, it's an accident. I can't blame you. It's just unfortunate timing."

Akechi notes Sae's tired eye bags underneath the makeup she always applies meticulously, and the slight slump of the shoulders that Sae usually only ever has when she's into a case five days deep without going back to her apartment to truly rest up.

"Since this is my fault, would you mind some assistance with putting everything back in order? Apologies for my late introduction, I am Goro Akechi, an intern for the Special Investigations Unit for Organised Crime. I was heading back home early anyway."

Sae looks at the messy folder that she holds and they both ignore the faint snickers around the office around them.

"I would normally refuse, but I do need these documents read through by tonight," Sae says, standing tall again. "Thank you for your offer, Akechi-kun. I am Public Prosecutor Sae Niijima. You can just call me Sae if you wish."

They walk quickly down the corridor to the elevator, and Akechi follows naturally a step behind. "No worries, Sae-san. I'm glad to be of use."

They settle down in the seating area near the front foyer, a quiet area that has a view of the street outside while still blocking noise by thick glass doors. By now, a few officers were leaving the premises now and then, and Akechi turns his full attention into sorting out the documents in his hands.

Just as he expected. This was the case that Sae had once told him about.

It's a memory over cheap conveyor belt sushi, rice disproportionately large to the thin slice of fish on top as Sae ate with relish.

It was relatively new in Akechi's career as a _Detective Prince_ , still an odd presence in the Police Headquarters. Sae had been one of the few to not flinch or disdain his presence as a mere teenager. It was with his help that Sae had finished a case quicker than usual, and she had treated Akechi to sushi as thanks. It was crowded for dinner time, and Akechi could even see a small line of people waiting outside for a seat as he turned his attention for the basil cheese salmon he ordered.

 _"Last December I was on a case that I couldn't resolve on time,"_ Sae recounted to him, tone faintly didactic when Akechi expressed doubts over his capabilities to smoothen conversation. _"The investigators on the case were uncooperative – I literally went to them every day from the ninth to the eighteenth, that's more than a week – and the victim's statement was judged as too subjective. However, something about his alibis didn't feel right. I only realised what it was after the case was finished in court – on one of his many interrogations he made a slip. On one of his transcripts he said he didn't know what time it was, on another he said he had dinner at seven-thirty on the day of the attack."_

Sae had a faintly dissatisfied look on her face when she chewed through an eel sushi whole.

 _"If I had that in addition to all I had, I could've tipped the scales and made them delay the trial so I could finally nail him down. But I didn't. That failure could've cost me,"_ Sae said, voice quick and to the point, _"but then I won my next ten cases spectacularly and no-one could deny my place."_

Akechi sorted through the pile of messy evidence and put it to order while Sae typed furiously on her laptop, posture still impeccable as ever as she frowned seriously at her screen. The perfect opposite to Atsuzawa, Akechi thought with humour, as he finally pulled out the two transcripts with the discrepancies on them.

"Sae-san, I've finished with organising the files," he tells her, and Sae looks up from her laptop with a small smile of appreciation.

"Thank you," she nods, before frowning when she sees the two pieces of paper in his hands. "Wait, you can't take any of the evidence away. Put them back."

"My apologies," Akechi says, before ignoring her order and placing it in front of her. "As I was sorting through the information, I couldn't help but notice that you were working on Juzo Nezu's case?"

Sae pauses, eyes honing to his face. "And? Do you know about it?"

"I've heard a little around the office," Akechi lies as he laughs a little to defuse Sae's intensity. "As I was sorting through the papers, I was skimming the transcripts in interest and noticed a small detail. If you look here…"

Akechi points. "In his interview back in September, didn't he say he didn't have any way to recognise the time of day because he was working inside a casino without windows or clocks? But later, in his transcript in November, he says he had dinner at seven and smoked outside when he took small breaks in his shift… which definitely means he knew the time of day, Sae-san."

Sae pauses before she practically snatches the two pieces of paper in his hand and skimming it herself. When she reaches the two parts Akechi pointed out, her face breaks into a happy smile, even if it is slightly vicious.

"Yes, this is the last key I need," Sae exclaims, carefully smoothing the two records out and taking a photo of each, tucking it into her own personal folder. She turns her gaze back to Akechi, much warmer than before. "Thank you… Akechi-kun, was it? You've assisted my case greatly."

"No, it's always a pleasure to further the path of justice," Akechi replies, the words rolling off his tongue, and Sae's gaze warms a little more. "I hope your case goes smoothly."

Sae was always easy to manipulate, as pleasant as her company was. In essence, she was too upright of a person, with honesty as her guiding principle until her values were ground down by the corruption around her.

"You're an intern at an SIU already, and you look my sister's age," Sae nods. "You have bright prospects, Akechi-kun. I'm glad to know the future of our justice system is in such good hands. You're leaving now, right? May we meet again."

Akechi laughs. "You flatter me too much, Sae-san. If we bump into each other in the future, I'll be glad to assist you again. I've always been curious about the prosecuting side of the law."

Sae's smile finally blooms into something warm and welcoming.

"Alright, I'll welcome the assistance. See you around."

Before Akechi leaves, the world freezes just as he expected. Just as he planned, months and months ago, before he was taken in by Atsuzawa in a fit of luck.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Moon** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Somehow, the Arcana always finds ways to make him surprised.

Not the Hierophant, but the Moon?

But standing around would stretch the moment into awkwardness, so Akechi bows and leaves with a pleasant smile on his face. He has a few assignments he has to finish anyway, in preparation for the storm he predicts is Atsuzawa's main event.

December the 15th is in six days.

He reaches back to his mind and grows solemn.

**Justice Rank 6 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

This may be troublesome.

  


* * *

  


Pinning down Atsuzawa is a difficult task. As a hands-on leader, near round-ups or any sort of operation, Atsuzawa flits around everywhere. As much as Akechi tries, Atsuzawa is just not available for a time to sit down and talk, to share ideas or explore the views that Akechi has realised was the driving factor in their Arcana, or even, their actual mentorship. Unlike Wakaba, addicted to science and willing to give time whenever a whiff of research was involved, Atsuzawa is whisked around to the point where it would be hard to see him if it wasn't Atsuzawa making a point to swing around the office for a few minutes every afternoon.

He sees Takaki a little more often, the big man inviting Akechi to shadow his investigations and operations whenever he can. Although his constant joviality is still sometimes grating, Akechi watches and learns all the same. Takaki is serious when he gives Akechi tips on how to confront a hostile target, coos whenever they pass a dog being walked on the street and tells self-deprecating stories of his police academy days to coax Akechi into laughing with him.

He is a good man.

As two days fly by and Atsuzawa is still in deep talks with various other agencies, Akechi thinks as he follows the large figure sliding through the metropolitan crowds of Tokyo proper.

Gentle eyes.

_We are all singular. A single grain of sand on a beach._

Valiance.

**Others will live their lives, fight their fights. That is the nature of the battlefield – a million lives, a million battles, and yours only one of many.**

But when he pulled Morrigan from the depths of his soul, when he awakened her, hadn't he resolved himself to fight, and claim a better future for himself? To fight and reclaim everything that he ever wanted, because Akechi has always been greedy for all the things he's seen others have and been denied. He wants those just dues that everyone had just been given, wants people to see him and see something extraordinary.

"Goodbye, Akechi-kun! See you tomorrow at the office!" Takaki waves at the subway station and Akechi allows his usual smile to float to his face.

"See you, Takaki-san."

Naho's welcoming exasperation, Atsuzawa's strange mix of lethargy and frenetic energy. Takaki's enthusiasm and cheer, with Akechi, somehow sliding into all of this with his calm, little barbed quips.

And he allows himself to think with a vicious possessiveness of something hard-won; _he wants their small bubble of warmth in the office to never end._

Akechi looks at the sky and thinks.

Yes, there's still time to add another card to his hand.

  


* * *

  


Not using all the cards in his hands is only a sign of hubris, and he's fed his hubris enough. Hasn't he proven himself to Atsuzawa already, with his skills and knowledge that didn't come from the Metaverse? Especially now that their suspect has confessed his guilt and he has a solid target.

Akechi has always been a pragmatist.

Around the corner are the high walls of a prison facility. When Akechi read through Hiroto's interrogation, a few key words had stuck in his mind. He's confident when he takes out his phone. His eyes are cold when he says three phrases into his phone.

"Kazuichi Hiroto. Yokohama Prison. Circus."

The Metaverse Navigator beeps in his hand in confirmation.

_[Beginning navigation]_

The air warps, and the world turns into darkness. The buildings shimmer into a dark foreboding forest that Akechi stands within, the trees gnarled grey things that reach into the night sky with branches of metallic blades and leaves of barbed wire. There is a faint light in the direction of where the prison had been through the gaps in the trees, and the warped sound of stilted accordions echoes towards him. When Akechi steps forward, he notices that the ground is not soil – the trees around him are planted in concrete, hard and unforgiving.

Ducking carefully underneath the canopy of barbs and knives, Akechi reaches the entrance of the main Palace soon enough. It's a large open ground made into a maze through large metal cages of exhibits crowding the area, sorted into various different areas with a tent in the middle. Shadows dressed in prison gear with splashes of old paint on them shamble around mumbling about pleasing _'The Ringmaster'._

In the middle of the whole area was the largest tent of all, a rainbow affair that had seen better times, lit up by roving spotlights. In the few minutes that Akechi stood outside to examine, there were periodic fireworks that would spark and fly up to light the area in bursts of bright colour before fading again. They light up the half-rusted silhouette of a welcome sign above him.

**HIROTO'S CIRCUS OF ODDITIES**

Akechi has been into enough Palaces to know how to judge their difficulty.

Some are simple affairs. Rooted in a certain building, the Palace owner's warped cognition doesn't extend far into the city proper and usually attracted weaker Shadows into their cognition. Slightly stronger Palaces were larger, more messy affairs. Although still rooted in a building, the Palace could change the weather, the time of day, warp space and reality to the point of unrecognizability to their real counterpart in the world. Navigation could be difficult in those without preparation.

The third type changed Tokyo altogether. In those, the Palace owner's cognitions have reached past their own possessions to a warped view of their entire world and manifested into reality. Although he hated to admit it, Shido's Palace had been the strongest he'd ever seen. That crumbled, apocalyptic world and the shining beacon of Shido's cruise had left nothing at all to be salvaged from Tokyo. There had been a drowned beauty in that perpetual sunset. Of a society, he had thought while standing on the bow watching the rippling shadows of a submerged city, reaping it's just dues.

Although Kazuichi Hiroto's Palace seemed like the second type as the circus only existed within the prison premises, Akechi raised his vigilance.

Tokyo had completely vanished, after all. To Hiroto, the outside world had become a place of penalty, hurt, and barren suffering. Warped cognitions strong enough to transform the world around him.

As Akechi stood there, a sad, drooping marching band of Shadows marched by playing a mismatched circus tune, offbeat with one another as they wound past the entrance back deeper inside. The music had a lonely feel as they faded back into the maze of cages and iron bars.

As another burst of rainbow fireworks splay across his face, Akechi steps forward. Morrigan's feather mantle settles heavily over his shoulders the next second, as he uses the rope he always brings and climbs the nearest cage.

No airborne enemies.

Akechi runs across the lines of cages beelining for the main tent in the middle, armour making soft _clinks_ on the bars as he carefully balances and jumps off them over the patrolling Shadows beneath.

  


* * *

  


There are some times when he has to inevitably drop to the ground so that he can climb the next strategic line of cages. This is when he comes face to face to the odd human caricatures in each cage. Some are encased in odd contraptions, others are groaning, tortured messes on the floor. Each and every one has a placard in front of the cage describing who they were.

All of them victims of Kazuichi's criminal affairs throughout the twenty-odd years he's lived in the prison, and Akechi bites back disgust at some of the bloodier cognitions that groan on the floor, begging for forgiveness.

He climbs _Freak 187_ 's cage, a cognitive young man crumpled in the corner of the cage with his fingernails ripped out and a blindfold over sunken eye sockets, and the stench of rotting meat follows him as Akechi carefully manoeuvres through the Palace.

It's mostly flat, and the infiltration is easier than expected. It's curious – Akechi passes many defunct security measures that would have probably cost him much time, but they are rusted over and collapsed. Even the Shadows he passes murmur of 'Hiroto-sama's decline' and how 'their circus might not survive any longer'.

The main tent arrives after a solid half an hour, and he slips inside into a crumbled arena. The centre ring is dusty and ruined, and the seats around them are broken and in disrepair. In the middle stands a man in an old, out-fashioned three-piece, with a top hat and a cane. A comical handlebar moustache sits on a sly fox-like face, eyes beady as they zoom to Akechi the moment he steps through.

"An intruder," Kazuichi Hiroto says, smile flitting to his face. "Going past all my security without even notifying me once… I've truly grown dull."

Akechi checks the sword on his hip before he pulls his gun and steps forward. When he fully steps into the only functioning spotlight, the Palace Ruler widens his eyes.

"Oh, I recognise you! Part of that hunter's team, aren't you? Your face and name came by my reports… Yes, yes, Goro Akechi. Recently joined intern. Welcome! Welcome to my grand circus!"

Akechi ignores the Shadow's dramatic spin as he walks closer. The fact that Kazuichi Hiroto hasn't called anyone nor had any ready Shadows around him only showed the extent of his mental isolation. It's something that works well when it happens, and won't be remedied unless Akechi actively points it out. He hasn't been so stupid since his very first palace.

"Kazuichi Hiroto, I presume?" Akechi steps up, gun in hand. "I wonder if you would be amenable to some questions?"

Kazuichi stops spinning to regard Akechi with an exaggerated look of rage.

"Do you think I'm stupid?!" Kazuichi stomps like a child. "Do you think I would be willing to share my secrets with the _police_? You think I'm dumb, don't you? You think me an idiot?"

Akechi's finger twitches on the trigger.

"I'm not truly asking," Akechi says with his blandest voice, finally levelling the gun to the Shadow's face, readying himself for the ruler to transform when they face the threat.

It's to Akechi's surprise when the Shadow presses his face into the barrel of the gun instead, his previous rage gone to the wind. Eyes suddenly widened to the limit, they rove up and down Akechi's body before resting on his face in intense interest.

"Oh. _Oooh_. How strange. How very, very strange. Is it my instincts going wrong, or do I seem to sense that you have the eyes… of a _murdereeeer_?" Kazuichi Hiroto laughs as he leans further into the barrel of Akechi's gun, tilting his top hat with mocking respect. "You can't deny it, I've lived too long among the rats. You have that gaze…" The Shadow leans in, yellow eyes narrowed before the face split into a large gaping laugh. "Yes, _yes_ , how ironic, how absurd! A murderer sliming his way into becoming a police detective! Justice is being served indeed!"

Akechi's lips are pursed into a stern line as he shoves the barrel into the Shadow's cheek until the Shadow finally relents and leans backwards.

"Enough of this talk. What is your relationship with the two heirs of the Tenkosai group?"

Kazuichi smirks. "Hey, what's with the roughness, Detective Intern Goro Akechi-kun? No thickness between thieves? No sympathy for a fellow murderer? Shouldn't you be on this side… with _me_?"

"I wouldn't even be speaking to a man like you," Akechi spits, "if I didn't wish to know more about your plans."

"Plans, plans, plans," Kazuichi curls a finger around one of his exaggerated handle-bar moustache, before plucking it off. He holds half the fake moustache in his hands, while the other sticks comically to his face, and he eyes it critically before chucking it over his shoulder. His asymmetry seems to please him when he finishes pondering. "I don't mind. We can make a deal. It can be the last bit of fun I can have in this dying circus anyway, _haha_! If you beat me, I'll tell you everything! If I beat you… You can become my newest exhibit! I can see it already, society's murder detective, hidden, a snake in the dark ready to prowl again!"

Akechi jumps back as the shout transforms into insane cackling, as Kazuichi Hiroto's Shadow starts bubbling, the tattered suit transforming into a looming spectre of a monster with seven heads connected to long human necks, all leering at him with different masks on their faces. Sets of hands juggle knives, another cracks a whip hard, and Akechi readies his pistol.

After unloading all the bullets he has into one of Kazuichi's masks and shattering it, he enters a familiar rhythm and dance. Tetrakarn, Megidolaon, Deathbound, Eigaon, Wakaba's strongest healing item, _repeat_.

The masks shatter one by one – both bless and curse skills aren't weaknesses or resisted, so it's only a matter of attrition. Akechi is feeling hollow as he pants harshly from the exertion when he finally stares down the very last face that emerged after he shattered all seven masks and cut off their crying heads. This Kazuichi Hiroto doesn't do much compared to the elemental storms he had to weather from the others – only poisoning him when he failed to resist.

Finally, Kazuichi Hiroto explodes into a cloud of billowing smog and reduces back into a human who promptly staggers and collapses onto the floor on his back.

"Fine, Goro Akechi," Kazuichi gasps. "You win."

Akechi finds enough of himself to walk forward, breathing past the few glancing blows that Kazuichi had managed to hit. There's a pain in his arm when he blocked badly that radiated throbbing heat when he presses his other palm on it, and his hip will have a bruise that'll last at least a week. Before he reaches Hiroto though, the Shadow's already talking.

"It's different when you're living like a captured dog," Kazuichi says as he stares at the dusty ceiling of the tent. He is splay-eagled on the floor, top hat somewhere to the ground far away and covered in the dust of the ring. "The food's different, the sky's different, the people around you mean different. Students come by the prison to gawk at us like we're exhibits. Life's a strange carnival, my murder-friend."

"I'm not your friend," Akechi says mildly, holstering his gun and redrawing his sword. "Don't think we share anything in common."

"Don't we? So you aren't the type to trample others for your own gain?" Kazuichi replies with a knowing edge of glee, yellow eyes slanted to sly glowing slits in his face as he rolls them down to look at him. Akechi stays silent. "You never had a life under your fingers and know you didn't need to kill them… but you did it anyway because it's more _convenient_ for you? _Ahahahahaha_ , guess what! I don't believe it! My instincts haven't been wrong for years!"

Akechi does not think of all the Shadows he's killed, just like this. Not now.

"Don't think that I'll accept your inane bullshit now," Akechi says expressionlessly, grinding the Shadow's hand under his heel when he reaches him and leaning forward to create eye contact. "Speak. You have no other choice."

"Yes," Kazuichi sighs with ecstasy. "That's the sort of gaze I used to have when I was young. You're burning to kill me, aren't you? You feel that itch in your hands?"

"Speak. Your deal with the Tenkosai clan."

" _Alriiiiiight_. I always honour my deals, you know. There's nothing to lose for me even if I tell you _aaaaall_ of Tenkosai's secrets now. Curious aren't you? Curious as to why I have nothing to lose, right?"

Kazuichi's eyes swim with anger even when though his smile remains gaping wide.

"You want to know why I'm doing all of this? Yes, of course you do! Simple," Kazuichi replies, and his eyes curve into gleeful crescents. "I'm dying! Dying, after all these years! Got cancer a few years back, but survived it somehow. Doc said if I ever feel the symptoms again I'll have less than a ten percent chance to survive, even with the latest tech and money to splurge. Felt the symptoms a few months back and didn't say anything to the docs. Everyone has a bucket list, yeah? So I'm finishing it. Killing all the people I always wanted to, messing up those who messed with me."

Kazuichi Hiroto smiles, a dark empty gaze in his eyes that Akechi is all too familiar with. In the privacy of his room, in the mirror when he dropped his façade—

"I'm ending this farce those fools are living with my own hands," the criminal says with an unhinged satisfaction that touches something deep in his mind, a fleeting breath of mockery. In it is every one of Akechi's dreams of snapping Shido's neck in his hands.

Not now.

"Shut up," Akechi interrupts. "I'm not interested in you. Who are you helping? Kazuma or Shibusawa?"

The Shadow sighs. "Boring. I'll tell you. Shibusawa contacted me first, you know? He promised he'd get me out if I murdered a few people. Kazuma was winning because he took over his father's drug ring and was making loads. Shibusawa is an old friend of mine, so when he asked me to kill a few guys to weaken Kazuma's influence and expose the ring to the police, why wouldn't I?"

"A few?" Akechi frowns, and Kazuichi chortles.

"Yes. On the last of the list, I gave the kill a little _extra service_. Kazuma loved his lil' sis, everyone knows that. So I made it super triggering, haha! Slit wrists, just like little Na-chan when she offed herself! Shibusawa was mad that I did it though," Kazuichi rolled his eyes. "Said he wouldn't honour our deal anymore, so I protected the guy next on the list and told Kazuma _aaaall_ about Shibusawa's plan. Kazuma was super ungrateful though, so I killed one of his goons just like his lil' sis another time. Heh, sure made him angry."

The discrepancies in the murderer's motives are suddenly clear.

Shibusawa contacted Kazuichi wishing to undermine Kazuma but didn't realise that Kazuichi had already become a loose cannon with nothing to lose. His terminal illness made Kazuichi lose all his inhibitions, and after being dragged into the conflict, had become a chaotic third party.

"Then what did you give Atsuzawa-san?"

"I was super honest, you know? I gave him their real bases. Nobody wants to be on the bad side of _that_ hunting dog. December fifteenth is usually clan meet day, so there are usually triple the clan members in the buildings… but it's also the _only_ day I can guarantee they'll be at their bases! Aren't I so kind?" Kazuichi flutters his eyelashes. "Now the police can get chewed up because they're not prepared, and both Kazuma and Shibusawa will fold like cards! Everyone is ruined! _Hahahahaha!_ "

Akechi kicks the Shadow in disgust, but the Shadow merely curls up and continues laughing.

"What are you going to do now, friend? Are you going to crawl out and try to fake being the sane little boy everyone wants you to be? Gonna report like the good little snake you are?"

Akechi ignores the Shadow as he walks off, leaving the Shadow sprawled behind him.

In the pure silence before he leaves the tent, he hears Kazuichi say a few lingering words.

"You know, it might not be so bad to grovel and beg and pretend to be a good man. It's funny, hah. Now that I'm dying, all I want to see is a sky without barbed wire…"

He closes the flaps to the tent with the Shadow staring upwards at the dilapidated ceiling, ensconced in darkness once more.

When he shimmers back into the real world, it has already turned to night. The train back to Tokyo from Yokohama takes forty minutes, and its midnight by the time he returns back to his dorm.

He watches as the day ticks from December 13th to December 14th.

He sleeps, and dreams of Shido's approving smile when he reported Kunikazu Okumura's death.

He wakes, and thinks.

One more day.

  


* * *

  


December the 14th is a Sunday, and although he's not required to appear he shows up anyway. He's pulled in by a grateful Naho to finish administrative tasks with her.

It's sunset, the winter sun drooping down the horizon an early five-o-clock when he finally hears news as to where Atsuzawa is. He immediately begs a break, which Naho willingly provides, and he heads there.

Third floor, to the right. He opens the door to the smoking break area to the last dazzle of gold sunshine dropping behind skyscrapers and looks around. In the end, it's a familiar rough voice that alerts him to turn around.

"Going back home, kid?" Atsuzawa is crouched to the side of the door, as the break area was an open balcony recessed a little into the building. The panes of smooth glass of other rooms and other windows curve outwards from them, glittering in response to the metropolitan sunset. Atsuzawa himself sat in a recess where the shadows were deeper, the only light the glowing butt of his cigarette when he sucked in.

"Tomorrow is the roundup," Akechi replies with suitable respect to the quiet atmosphere, "and I was a little nervous. I heard from Mitarai-san that you were here."

Atsuzawa's face broke into a faint smile.

"Sorry, Akechi. I don't think I can be good company today. Smoke isn't good for your lungs either, so go back inside. There's a cushy break lounge and kitchen combo on the twelfth floor that doesn't have freezing seats."

Akechi isn't about to leave when this is the first time he'd caught Atsuzawa alone for the past week.

"My apologies, Atsuzawa-san. Am I disturbing you?"

"Not so much as I'll be a downer right now," Atsuzawa heaved a deep sigh full of smoke into the air. "Sometimes thinking isn't a lot of fun."

When all Akechi does is pull up one of those aforementioned freezing chairs next to Atsuzawa and sits down comfortably, legs crossed and leaning an elbow on an armrest, Atsuzawa manages a small chuckle.

"Alright kid, you do you. Keep a depressed old man company."

"What are you thinking, Atsuzawa-san?" Akechi asks, and Atsuzawa sighs.

"You really wanna know? Eh. I've been so busy with arranging the round-up tomorrow that I let some paper-work build, so I was skimming through it when I found a list of the people we arrested these past weeks. Half of them," Atsuzawa's mouth was a bitter twist, "were kids. Just like you and Takaki. Older teens and young adults, all playing that yakuza game now too deep to get out."

Sucking in another breath of smoke, Atsuzawa's eyes track the purpling horizon. In them is a tired kindness.

"I've put many kids in prison, round up hundreds of people to live their lives in a static cube that won't change them at all. Sometimes, it hits harder that's all, on how we all do duties that will never end." Atsuzawa flicks the end of his cigarette in an ashtray he had put near his feet. He waves the dim red end of the cigarette to the vague shadow of a clerk down the street, dusting the front display case as the store prepares to close.

"That clerk. Tomorrow, she'll have another hundred customers to greet the next day. The burger flipper downstairs is going to flip another thousand burgers, and I'll have to haul in another few hundred of perps before retirement because crime never stops. And so it goes," Atsuzawa trails off by sucking in another deep breath of a cigarette.

"I would have imagined that you loved your job, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says curiously, watching the smoke as it billowed in the air in an expanding cloud that dissipated into smog soon enough. "You are always filled with energy when you direct our team towards advancing our goals."

From his seat, Atsuzawa's head is only as tall as his elbow. The man doesn't bother to change his posture though, leaning back to the wall more, even, the half-moon curve of his back a slight testament to the familiarity of hunching over a computer.

"You can appreciate the chase without ever loving where it comes from, Akechi," Atsuzawa says, bitter humour tinging the sentence.

"…Do you feel bitter because you think those people have the chance to redeem themselves?"

Atsuzawa snorts.

"Kid, I'll reply with one simple thing my friend told me. He's a forensic psychologist, and he works in prison all day for the past ten years. Do you know what he told me?"

Akechi feels the air is too thick in his lungs when he replies, as lightly as he can.

"What did he tell you, Atsuzawa-san?"

"Working with criminals is hard work, but it only made him appreciate just how beautiful humans are." Atsuzawa taps his cigarette again, eyes serious as he finally looks back at Akechi. "Ninety-nine percent of them had a traceable reason why they were there – broken families, mental disorders, abuse, neglect. They grew up, and they did what they did. And he assessed them and found that every single one of them wanted better for themselves. That's what he concluded. That's humanity's basic instinct. We climb."

"Climb?"

"Yes," Atsuzawa replied. "And the half that hadn't given up on themselves yet, guess what they do. They grasp any straw they can find, and they haul themselves up, they do the desperate, inglorious climb to get a better deal for themselves. And my friend never hated his job, because it was his job to give them better straws to cling to, and try to teach them to learn how to swim from that hope."

"You'd forgive them so easily? Some have done horrid crimes, Atsuzawa-san. It's not minor things like larceny. Things like… murder, for example."

"Akechi, there's one thing you gotta learn," Atsuzawa draws his trench coat close to him now that the sun finally set for good. "Sometimes, there are things out of our control that drop a person to their lowest of lows. And if they haven't given up that little spark of humanity, if they still wanna become a better person, you should let them. See where they go if given a chance since the future isn't set in stone. A world without forgiveness wouldn't function, yeah? Imagine that," Atsuzawa chuckles. "Our job would be so much harder."

Akechi breathes out shakily, covering it up with another deep breath before he answers.

"I see. Thank you, Atsuzawa-san."

"Lecture number fifty from yours truly," Atsuzawa groans as he hauls himself up, catching himself on the back of Akechi's seat when his knees obviously protest in pain. " _Oof_ , I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Before you leave, Atsuzawa-san, I have to admit visiting you wasn't entirely because of social reasons."

"Hmm?" Atsuzawa pauses, turning his attention to Akechi, and he pushes out the reasoning he'd cobbled together throughout the day.

"Don't you think something doesn't feel quite right?" Akechi asks. "I've read Kazuichi Hiroto's circumstances. I would have guessed that people as important as the heirs of a yakuza clan wouldn't have the timetables readily available. If we are to believe his words, we should ask why someone like Hiroto know the two heirs would be in those two buildings at that time?"

Atsuzawa frowns. "Are you implying that there might be something bigger going on?"

"To say it frankly, if there is some sort of clan activity tomorrow that aggregates their members, Atsuzawa-san, our current numbers might not be enough."

Atsuzawa takes this statement with a thoughtful frown, turning it over in his head.

"Requisitioning more members for tomorrow would be hard but not impossible," Atsuzawa mumbles to himself. "It's my policy to always be safe than sorry. Alright, Akechi. I'll see what I can do. I can just apologise if I request too many anyway. Thanks for notifying me."

The weight of the hand on his head is cold and bony on his scalp, and Akechi makes a face for the sake of it when he proceeds to mess his hair.

"Tomorrow will be a big day, kid. It might be a little dangerous. Naho said you were determined, but are you sure you want to come?"

Akechi laughs, before settling into seriousness.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Atsuzawa-san."

**Justice Rank 7 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


It's with a tense silence that Akechi sits at the back of a police cruiser, as Atsuzawa sits in the front seat monitoring the situation. Communications came in non-stop, and Akechi sat quietly listening to everything.

They sent police in already, with as many extra numbers as Atsuzawa could muster. It turned out to be a good move when the first teams sent out an emergency call on both ends.

_"Triple the number expected! Back up! Requesting back up!"_

The extra members of the force that Atsuzawa called in had immediately moved in with precision. Since the Karaoke bar was a smaller building, the operation there finished sooner.

 _"High profile target Kazuma of the Tenkosai has been apprehended!"_ Someone reported over their walkie talkie, while another few teams reported seizing moderate amounts of drugs from the premises.

 _"Shibusawa has escaped the enclosure!"_ Takaki's voice rang through. _"He sacrificed seven bodyguards and has left the premises through a secret back door. Since the others are occupied, Hanazawa and I will engage!"_

"Copy," Atsuzawa switched on the engine and started backing out of the parking lot they were in. "I'm free right now, so I'll back you up."

They followed Takaki's reports until there's a gunshot, and Takaki's voice sounds panicked just as they are turning the corner. They see the figure of Takaki rapidly speaking into his walkie talkie kneeling over a downed man in a police vest on the pavement. There's blood on the pavement, even as another man, Shibusawa, drags a small girl into a nearby building.

_"Hanazawa down! I repeat, Hanazawa down! He has snatched a girl off the street as a hostage!"_

"Akechi, call an ambulance," Atsuzawa says even as they screech into a brake in front of the building Shibusawa just entered, a crowd blocking their view. Takaki is blocking a distraught woman from entering the building, while Hanazawa on the pavement gives them a weak thumbs up when he sees them.

"We'll try our best to get your little girl back, ma'am," Atsuzawa says, flashing his badge. "But please let us do our jobs. Takaki, with me. Akechi, stay with Hanazawa. Let's go."

Takaki nods seriously, and they both head into the building, disappearing inside. It's a short office building, only five storeys high, and it seems like most of the employees had already finished work.

Akechi would be wondering how to slip inside if he doesn't hear the sound of sirens, surprisingly quick. In a few minutes, the crowd buzzes when an ambulance parks right next to Atsuzawa's cruiser.

"What's the issue?" One of the paramedics immediately ask, kneeling next to Hanazawa, and Akechi points to his leg.

"Shot through the leg, bleeding is moderate. Excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

Before anyone has a chance to protest, Akechi slips away into the building himself. His footsteps are silent as he takes the stairs quickly, glad the building is empty as he listens for familiar voices, a commotion.

Five flights later, he's on the last stretch. The door leading to the roof is open, and he hears voices.

"You're out of bullets and have nowhere to go," he hears Atsuzawa say calmly. Akechi immediately slows, climbing the stairs to the roof as silently as he's ever learnt. "So let's talk through this. Give us the girl, Shibusawa, and we'll allow you a chance to bargain."

"I'm no idiot, Atsuzawa," Shibusawa crowed, a knife to the little girl's neck. "This _is_ my bargaining chip! Put down your guns. Do you think I won't slit a girl's throat?"

There's a girl's sob, before Shibusawa's voice replies. "Good. Now, I don't mind getting a better bargaining chip. I'm not as bad a man as you think I am. Doing such a thing to a little girl hurts my heart too. Atsuzawa… if you replace her as hostage, I'll be willing to let her go."

"It's a trap, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki whispers too loud, failing as always, and Akechi inches closer.

He sees the layout now. The roof is obviously not meant for access – there's a wider flat square concrete area, but there are no safety railings or wires. There's only a water tank in the corner, the only reason why anyone would come up here.

Shibusawa is closer to the edge, holding a young girl, perhaps ten years old. Both Takaki and Atsuzawa's guns are on the floor, Takaki to the left and closer to Shibusawa, while Atsuzawa was in Akechi's direct line of sight from the door.

"I agree to your demand," Atsuzawa says. "What do I need to do?"

"Take off your trench coat first, I don't know what you've hidden in there," Shibusawa scowls, and Atsuzawa slowly does so, folding it when he places it on the floor. "Good. Now walk towards me. I'll let go of the girl when you're kneeling in front of me like a good little bitch."

Takaki's face twists in anger, but Atsuzawa waves him down.

"Alright," Atsuzawa replies calmly. He proceeds to walk forward and kneel down in front of Shibusawa, who immediately switches the knife from the girl's throat to Atsuzawa's. The girl is obviously shaken, but there's a gruff kindness in Atsuzawa's voice when he talks to her.

"You've been brave, haven't you? Can you be brave a little longer, girl? Run towards the stairs, don't look back. Go back down all those stairs to your mom, okay? I have a partner down there that'll greet you, a nice boy called Akechi. Got it?"

The girl nods and takes a few wobbly steps forward before she breaks into a sprint. Akechi is nearly not quick enough scrambling up the last step and hiding next to the doorway when the girl sprints right past him, coughing on tears as she leaps past without even noticing Akechi right next to the doorway.

"Now what, Shibusawa?" He hears Atsuzawa say, and Shibusawa laughs.

"Now _this!"_ The stocky man kicks Atsuzawa straight in the solar plexus and Atsuzawa goes down with a wheeze. When Takaki immediately tries to move forward, Shibusawa holds the knife threateningly again, before bending down.

"I know when I'm done for, Atsuzawa. You've smoked all of us rats out, and I bet that snake Kazuichi already told you everything, didn't he? That's how you knew I was going to be there today, right? But you know what, Atsuzawa? I feel like this is unfair. So unfair. I've worked so hard for this moment, you know? Twenty years, to be the next Head of the Tenkosai. And look at me now! I've lost everything!"

Atsuzawa's wheezing when Shibusawa stands back up, knife still in hand. "So guess what, I want something back. Something that'll make me happy. What else would make me happier, than taking out the best hound dog in Japan?"

The knife flashes, and there's a terrifying moment when Akechi thinks his memory had failed him – that it wasn't Atsuzawa's colleague dying, but Atsuzawa himself – before a shout distracts him.

"Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki shouts and leaps forward, body-checking Shibusawa out of the way. The other man doesn't go down easily, and their struggle has them stumbling farther away from Atsuzawa. Takaki is large and trained, but Shibusawa is obviously experienced, and in the end, he manages to grab the big man and use momentum to fling him over his shoulder. Takaki lands heavily right at the edge of the roof, teetering on the edge before finding his balance with a quick twist of his shoulders.

Akechi is racing forward even as Atsuzawa croaks out a breathless _'Takaki!'_ , struggling to rise to his feet from being winded as he watches Shibusawa's annoyed frown, as Shibusawa brings one leg back to kick him over the edge.

Before the man can land the kick, Akechi reached where Atsuzawa's had left his gun. He picks it up in one fluid motion, taking a second to switch the safety off and aim.

A loud _bang_ echoes through the precinct, the acrid smell of gunpowder hits Akechi's nose as the bullet flies above Atsuzawa's head and finds a home in the meat of Shibusawa's shoulder. The man collapses in pain even as Akechi throws the gun at Atsuzawa when he passes him and keeps running forward.

Takaki is still too near the edge, Shibusawa blocking the way.

"You, fucking _police_ ," Shibusawa is gritting his teeth, face deep-set with anger as he stares straight at Akechi racing forward in his quickest sprint.

Then his face lights with a small comprehension. A horrible, petty, vindictive grin spreads across his face as Shibusawa reaches forward a shaking hand towards Takaki who is steadying himself, starting to lift himself up and away from the edge.

And he pushes.

With a shout, Takaki falls and Akechi dives, the world in tunnel vision. A large, warm palm finds his own, and Akechi tenses as the momentum to stop Takaki falling drags him nearly over the edge of the roof. As there is no safety railing, there's only a tiny two-centimetre rise to leverage himself as his arm strains. The injuries he took from Kazuichi's Shadow burns in protest, and his hands want to let go. Sweat is making once dry palms slick and hard to grasp, and Akechi only clenches his hand tighter in response.

Akechi grits his teeth and does not let go. He will not.

Takaki is not his Arcana in the first place. There is no miracle for him to depend on, no supernatural voice that he can judge and calculate and rank up with. But was that cause to give up? Has _Goro Akechi_ ever given up on something he cares for?

Didn't Minato, Saito, and Atsuzawa already say so?

He's going to change. He's going to fight, and he's going to win. _Nothing will dictate his choices and future._ Even if it's fate itself, even if it's a God looking mercilessly at him, telling him to die a murderer's death. Even if he is the only grain of sand standing against the tide.

He will change. He's going to live with hundreds of souls on his conscience and remember, use them as fuel to see what he is too blind to see. He will use this second chance and _live_ , no matter where it gets him.

The large, sincere face of Takaki swings underneath him in surprise above the five-storey drop, and in the edge of his vision he sees the red and blue flashes of speeding police cars racing around the corner. Their hands slip another centimetre.

"Takaki-san," Akechi grits out, "you are tall enough to reach the top ledge of the window from the previous floor as a toe hold. It's to your right. It's a bit far, so before you try please grip my arm with your other hand."

Akechi barely holds the strain when Takaki starts to try swing his other hand up before he notices Takaki's eyes growing wide.

"Akechi-kun, above you!"

It hasn't even been a second before he feels the prick of a knife on the back of his neck.

"Drop the gun, Atsuzawa," Shibusawa is panting, as something warm drips down the blade onto Akechi's neck. The familiar metallic smell of blood slides down his throat to fall onto Takaki's face in soft _plips_.

"Drop the knife first, Shibusawa," Atsuzawa says harshly, near guttural. The sound of sirens fills the air, followed by slamming doors as Akechi watches some of the police he vaguely recognised looking up in panic when they saw their situation. A walkie-talkie immediately starts crackling on Atsuzawa's belt, telling him to report the situation. A few police have already raced into the building, while a policewoman rapidly directed movement on the ground, clearing the crowd. Akechi's grip slips another few millimetres. "You know you're surrounded," Atsuzawa continues talking, dangerously quiet. "If you give up now, I can still let you have a plea bargain for a lesser sentence."

"Heh, who are you kidding, Atsuzawa? We all know I'm going in for life anyway," Shibusawa chuckles with no amusement, before in the reflection of Takaki's large eyes, Shibusawa raises his arm with the knife up, ready to stab down.

Akechi couldn't move.

A gunshot sounds behind them, and Takaki doesn't ever look away from Akechi when he shouts.

"Akechi, roll away!"

And with one determined twist of his fingers, he lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehehe?  
> Fate is hard to fight, guys. Feel free to express your thoughts on Takaki :]  
> Thank you for all your support, comments and kudos! Your comments are so uplifting you guys are so nice dear lord. I hope this chapter is ok there was a lot of long logic flying around. I have so many things I want to say but I don't even know. I may have to sum up all the questions in a mini extra one day, or just let them slowly get resolved in the future ^^' Many things will be wrapped up next chapter as Atsuzawa's arc officially closes:D I've always liked exploring what it means to be _unforgiveable_ so I had a lot of fun with Atsuzawa.  
> Also, surprise Sae!  
> I'm feeling strangely wistful cos it's May already and I had so many plans on what I wanted to do this year that hasn't happened, but that is minor relative to all of you staying safe, sane, and positive. Please stay strong, everyone, with my best wishes. See you next week! Sorry for the typos, I'll edit throughout the week.


	20. Chapter 20

He's stepping onto a strangely familiar balcony, a small square of a thing teeming with pots of flowers with near nowhere left for him to stand. The bright sunlight and mild air signify that it's spring, and the flowers in front of him agree. Most of the springtime flowers are in bloom in their pots, colours a stunning contrast to the greyed tiles of the balcony, or even, the stagnant concrete buildings behind.

The watering can in his hand tilts, selecting a pot of beautiful purple-blue irises to water first. They are bold and dignified, placed next to some delicate pink dahlias that are just starting to bud. Verbenas next, a large flush of early light purple blooms in a nearly decadent wave that spreads towards a pot of lone bluebells, elegantly drooping in the shade.

There's a funny garden gnome behind it, and for some strange reason, the gnome has been fitted with a Featherman helmet over its features, a comical plastic green mask placed on the gnome's head overlooking the next empty pot. Even though it's empty, he somehow knows it holds unbloomed sunflowers.

The hand that holds the pot tilts it over to empty the last of its droplets on the bluebells, turning back around to a tiny kitchen to refill it. The inside of the apartment is filled with small memorabilia and clutter of the well-lived kind. Many pots and pans are already dried in a rack next to the sink, ready to be put away after a night sharing food with a group of others. A calendar that he passes on the wall is filled with circles and notes, all written in different fonts and colourful doodles as cheerful reminders.

When he steps out onto the balcony again, he carefully waters the last pot of flowers blooming golden orange to the far right.

A pot of marigolds for remembrance, he thinks wistfully.

It doesn't need that much water – and soon he's setting the can down and moving the pot closer to sunlight. Water droplets sway off the petals onto damp soil, and a sense of satisfaction blooms when he sees all his flowers – precious, all in different ways – growing so well.

Surrounded by blues, purples and pinks, the bright yellow of the marigolds draws the eye.

What would he think, so many years on?

Laugh at him, probably, for being a sentimental fool.

"Come on, let's go! We're going to be late!"

"Alright," his voice replies warmly, strangely deep in his chest. His point of view turns to see a black cat staring up at him with wide blue eyes and a smile as wide as a cat could smile. Its tail is swaying side to side, fluff deep on the cheeks. A pale hand reaches out and scoops the cat into his arms, noting that it has recently eaten enough to be a little on the fat side. "Let's go."

When they walk through the door, Akira blinks blearily awake.

A familiar ceiling, old and off-blue. It's ridiculously early, by the sounds of things, as he can still hear his father's loud snoring all the way down the corridor, not yet awake. His curtains don't even catch a shadow of light, and it's with a sigh that Akira places a tired arm over his eyes.

That dream again.

  


* * *

  


It may be funny to think given his past profession and the inevitable injuries that accumulate in the Metaverse, but Akechi has never spent a lot of time in hospitals. He doesn't even have a Dia to his name, after all. His response to things wanting to kill him is simple – kill them faster. He has a whole arsenal of skills dedicated to that, and it wasn't a coincidence that Akechi had long found that a Persona user's body is sturdier than normal. Whether or not it's an unexamined side effect of accepting an otherworldly reflection of yourself into your being or not, with bandages and good sleep, even a fractured bone could heal well enough that Akechi could run around in Mementos in a week.

That would be hard to explain in all scenarios he'd imagined when attempting to get medical help, so doctors and hospitals were avoided for the most part.

Therefore, his past hospital visits were strictly limited to getting statements. Even then, Detective Prince moniker or not, he had never been a first responder after an incident. By the time he got to an unresolved case, victims were usually recovering at home.

He'd never really appreciated it, the rows and rows of waiting room chairs.

There's a subdued bustle in hospital, practically crowded. Children sniffling, visitors toting gifts and balloons. A woman, whose crying is echoing down a fluorescently lit corridor, somehow too bright. The gentle blue and white paint of the walls… all of it a scenery that Akechi had never seen through his current eyes. It's a distinct novelty, to sit and wait.

After all, he had never had anyone he cared for enough to ever need to wait for them.

"How much time left until the end of surgery again?" Atsuzawa manages to rasp, blinking blearily from the spot he had tucked himself into, a cushioned lounge in a recess that allowed him to fold all his gangly limbs in a huddle over his clunky laptop.

"They're working on his shattered pelvis. Two hours approximately," Naho replies as she continues to tap efficiently on her phone, emails after emails.

"Hrmph," Atsuzawa exhales before letting his head droop onto the wall, eyes half-mast in tiredness as he continued to peck away at his computer's keyboard.

Akechi watches on the other side of Naho, pretending to do his homework.

It's hard to think that the standoff had only been a few hours before. Akechi could still feel that burning desperation to succeed, the cold blood on his throat, the warm palm in his hands.

"Takaki-san!"

Akechi had tried to grasp that hand again even though the man had slipped away, sliding a few centimetres forward in hopes for what he could grab before a hand caught the back of his collar.

"Do you have a death wish, kid?" Came a harsh voice as they yanked him backwards, and Akechi was pulled back in time that he didn't see the moment Takaki hit the floor. He heard well enough, the shocked screams from the crowd, and the sudden shouting for the ambulance already on scene to swap patients. All Akechi could see, however, was Atsuzawa's face pale and tight as he's never seen it, standing tall. Unlike Akechi, trying to recover his feet, he's looking down at the scene with a grave look before his eyes swing back to Akechi. "You—"

"What's the situation?"

A pair of policemen ran onto the rooftop, guns in hand even though they had obviously seen what Akechi had seen.

Shibusawa, groaning on the floor with another bullet hole in his side. With one in his shoulder and another on his flank, the pain had finally overcome his nerves, and the knife had fallen dangerously close to the edge where Akechi's head had been. When Akechi had turned his attention to the man, he observed that he had a pain-filled expression of hate that didn't waver from Atsuzawa. Blood seeped through the white business shirt the man had on, and Akechi remembered thinking with a bubble of hatred that it was a shame that Atsuzawa's shot hadn't misfired and hit somewhere more critical.

The stomach, maybe. He's heard rumours that wounds that involve stomach acid were especially painful and difficult to treat.

Atsuzawa, however, paid it no mind as he turned his attention to his colleagues.

"Get him some medical attention before he bleeds out," He jerks his chin towards Shibusawa, and one of them immediately heads over to Shibusawa while the other rapidly talks into his phone.

It's at this time that Akechi manages to haul himself up, feeling the aftereffects of adrenaline in his veins. Light-headed, heart still racing and feeling strangely disconnected, he turns his head and looks down. A crowd circling a ring, paramedics hauling a large figure on a stretcher. Faces hidden by the blur of distance, motions hurried and precise. Ants, scurrying on the ground carefully skirting around the site of the incident, phones flashing, videos recording that little bit of entertainment for their own story as his friend was pushed up into the ambulance near death.

A circus of tiny, ambivalent fools.

"Don't look," Atsuzawa says firmly to Akechi even as the officer attending to Shibusawa whistles.

"Did you make these shots, Atsuzawa?"

"Yes. Both of them." Atsuzawa replies succinctly. Akechi stills. Atsuzawa is still not looking at him, gaze kept firmly on the officer speaking. "Why?"

"I never realised you have such a good aim," the officer says lightly, obviously trying to defuse the tension in the air. "I've never seen such a perfect nonlethal shoulder shot past academy days, you know? You got him right in the meat."

"…Is that so?" Atsuzawa replies. This time his eyes finally rest on Akechi, who swallows when he finds Atsuzawa's usually open face shuttered and hard to read. "I had no idea either."

The wail of sirens fill the air again, as the ambulance in the street below left with Takaki, drawing everyone's eye as it sped around the corner and out of sight. The resulting incident reports and crime scene had left Atsuzawa swarmed by officers and kept busy while Akechi was swept away by other sympathetic officers who clapped him on the back in unspoken encouragement and left him to the side so everyone could get to business.

After half an hour where Akechi had stayed a silent shadow at the edge of the scene, a stressed Naho had pulled up in her car, inviting Akechi on. And with a wave of Atsuzawa's hand he accepted.

It leads to this situation now, this strange, slow anxiety.

Just like Wakaba, at that moment when she was lit in colour in the flickering flames. Blood, everywhere, clothes melted into her skin, skin burnt into a char, char glistening with a glimpse of still ruby flesh.

That sense of _utter failure._

If he is feeling charitable to himself, he would cite that both Wakaba and Takaki are still alive. Compromised, but alive. Wakaba, in a coma. Takaki, surviving the moment of impact at a height where he had an approximate fifty-fifty chance of surviving.

Hadn't Minato said that even in those worlds where he saved Shinjiro Aragaki, Shinjiro had still fallen into a coma until after everything had finished?

It seems subverting fate ultimately has a cost.

The problem of allowing himself to care for others, Akechi thinks, is that the burning flame that had let him face life with the urgent sense of _vengeance_ is drowned by a growing recognition of just how large the world ultimately is. Was he the only bastard with a shitty father in the whole universe? No. Had he been dealt with cards of fate that were worse than the majority? _Yes._ Unequivocally. Were there people with worse cards than him who ultimately managed to choose to become a better person?

Minato, with eyes holding a swirling universe, told him one word.

_Yes._

"Alright, time to finish something up. Akechi, with me, let's go outside. Naho, keep an eye on Takaki for us?"

"No problem, Atsuzawa," Naho replies with a gentle smile, taking off her glasses momentarily to rub her eyes.

"Kid, with me."

Closing his laptop, he puts it next to Naho and slouches towards the entrance behind them, hands deep in pockets. When they reach the entrance, the bitterly cold air of night-time winter washes over them, but Akechi follows without a word when Atsuzawa steps out into the darkness to the side, lighting up a cigarette with the flickering flame of a lighter.

After a large draw of smoke, Atsuzawa's profile is half-lit by the glowing white lights from the hospital entrance, harsh and unflattering.

"Kid," he says towards the dark street. "Who exactly are you?"

Akechi stays silent.

"Naho telling me you were learning all the systems ridiculously quick is one thing. Being talented, assertive, and insightful is another. My cousin who works in intelligence warning me about you? Intriguing, but not a deal breaker. I dismissed him until today." Atsuzawa's eyes slide to look at Akechi. "A perfect shot sniped from across the rooftop in a tense situation… In Japan, a country that illegalises firearms? That's not normal, kid."

This time, Akechi frowns.

"Cousin?"

"Fusatsune, my cousin. My ma and his ma made a joke about naming us similarly, and we grew up taking shit for it. Not the point. He took one look at your profile and told me to kick you from the team. I didn't, and I still don't regret it. Without you, Shibusawa would have kicked Takaki down headfirst."

A breath in, another cloud of silver smoke and Atsuzawa turns to face him. He's standing straight, eyes uncommonly serious. There's an olive branch in his next words.

"Tell me the truth, kid. What's up with you?"

Akechi at a crossroads. There is a choice in front of him that has to be made.

"I don't…" He starts, wanting to stall. However, a whisper in the back of his mind warns him _'be careful. This chance will only happen once.'_

If there was anyone to trust, it would be Atsuzawa.

But what could he even say? Atsuzawa was hardly the type to read theoretical papers, let alone a half supernatural soft-science field such as cognitive pscience. If he says that Shido, the popular politician within their leading party had a large ring of influential people under his thumb (including the SIU Director, who was supposed to be leading investigations into government corruption in the first place) was the evil mastermind, how would he even explain his connection?

'Father' doesn't particularly explain his shooting skills.

Their Arcana is humming at the back of his mind, a warm reminder that ultimately Atsuzawa had never given him a reason to _not_ trust him. To make this first step and trust somebody else –

He's reminded of Wakaba again, somehow, glasses reflecting the city on a late night.

Are all higher ranks something that requires an exchange of trust? Just like a cheesy shounen anime, was the very fabric of reality in fact, _love, trust_ and _confidence_?

A wry smile rises at that thought.

Ridiculous.

"It's a difficult decision to make, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, not denying Atsuzawa's accusations. Recovering a little bit of his usual flair, he brings himself to stand straighter. Gloved fingers clench around nothing, and he looks straight at Atsuzawa. "I won't deny that something is going on, but I need a little time to put everything in order. May I have a week?"

Atsuzawa eyes him for a second, but nods.

"A week it is. Convenient too since you're grounded. You'll be doing paperwork with Naho until I can trust you again." He slumps over to lean on the hospital walls, mouth in a more familiar wry grin. "I didn't forget that you abandoned my orders to jump headfirst into danger, Akechi. The police are an organisation – insubordination can risk _lives_ if you're even one step out of place in an operation. Got that?"

"My sincere apologies, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi bows, and Atsuzawa merely sighs.

"It's your first warning, so I'll keep punishment light. Make sure it doesn't happen again."

Stamping out the cigarette under his heel after another breath, Atsuzawa moves to head back inside the hospital. Before Akechi can follow, however, he's stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't take this as encouragement… but thanks, kid. For giving Takaki a fighting chance."

The words stab something bitter in Akechi's chest.

He did not try so hard – he did not _compromise his position_ – for a mere fighting chance.

"No need," Akechi replies with a smile. "Don't thank me until he's recovered, Atsuzawa-san. Now, will you excuse me to Mitarai-san? It's about time I head back to my dorm."

The strange heaviness is still there when Atsuzawa steps back, the atmosphere still unreadable. The easy trust and camaraderie from before had, for the first time, felt sour and awkward.

"See you soon, Akechi."

**Justice Rank 8 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


"Mom, I'll be back, okay? You have to stay strong." Futaba feels strange when she takes a quick glance around to check if anyone is around her (no-one, bar some old dude shouting at a football match next door) and darts forward to give Wakaba a kiss on the forehead. It feels like a strange role-reversal – her mom was the one who gave forehead kisses at bedtime, not her – and Futaba settles back in her chair feeling like the world was tilted a few degrees to the right and no-one else noticed.

"Everything is so different without you, and maybe it's selfish… But I know that when you wake up everything will be okay again. We have to get back at all the bad guys who tried to hurt you, and you're the only one who can tell us who GA is so I can kick his stupid butt."

Futaba huffs a little, blowing up her hair as she hugs her knees again. The fancy television in the room was set to a radio channel, blaring Risette's newest music album practically on repeat as the DJs gushed about her. It covered the sound of beeping machines at least, since she didn't bring her best sound-cancelling headphones with her.

"Christmas is coming soon, and I can't spend it here with you," Futaba says, "so guess what I brought? I bet you'll like it lots!"

She's biting her lip when she pulls out the photo frame.

Inside is a memory from her last birthday. There was a Featherman popup café on the weekend, and Futaba hadn't even needed to beg to go. It had been so fun – the café had Feather Hawk's famous curry dish, spiced extra red, and the infamous bacon line that Blue said all the way back in season three was commemorated with a cute bacon sticker that came randomly with the drinks they ordered (it had taken seven different drinks and a sugar coma from Sojiro before she got it). Sojiro had gotten Green's avocado toast, and Wakaba had tried out Yellow's Super Large Omelette, and at the end, they all wore the cheap paper masks on their faces while a staff member took a picture.

They're all smiles there – Futaba had insisted on swapping with Sojiro, so Sojiro's smirk was half-hidden by Red's ranger mask. Futaba wore Green's, of course, and Wakaba wore her yellow mask with a wide smile.

"Look, I even stuck the bacon sticker I told you I'll never use on the frame, see? With this by your side, you'll get better in no time!"

Futaba carefully places the frame on the bedside, angled so that it'll be easy for Wakaba to see when she opened her eyes. Like this, it was especially easy to see the addition she did. In the corner, in wobbly blue marker, she drew a small mask with a tongue sticking out and two horns because even though she really liked GA she was still really salty, okay.

"I'm not stupid, you know," Futaba murmurs to her mother now. "That night when you took us to ice-cream, you suddenly mentioned how I always wanted a big bro, right? You were thinking about GA, weren't you? I—I wouldn't have minded if you brought him, he's a really stupid nerd. Stupider than me. An idiot." Futaba's pout grows a little bigger when she thinks of the moment GA vanished in front of her eyes. "I would've talked to him, okay, you didn't have to worry. You could've told me more, you know."

Silence. Her mother barely even breathes on the bed, and her hands are always so cold. Her pale face is such a stark contrast to the smile in the photo – and this is why Futaba only pulled it out on the last day, as she juts out her lip with a ferocious frown.

No matter what those bullies said, she _isn't_ a crybaby.

"But I guess it's my fault you didn't trust me enough. I'm sorry, mom. If you wake up, I promise I'll be super reliable. I won't be selfish again, I swear. I'll present a brand new me! Just make sure you wake up before my birthday! A girl only turns fourteen once!"

No response, of course. The hospital is situated north enough that it's snowing outside, gentle flakes falling down thickly in a way that Futaba had never seen, as a Tokyo resident. People actually had to shovel snow here, gardens filled with bare shrubs and trees.

Aigis had already gently told her that there was a very small chance that Wakaba would be awake on Christmas.

And that's _fine_ , Futaba thinks viciously. Her mom is a fighter. She's going to make a full recovery, and they'll all eat curry together watching anime curled around a kotatsu again. There are four sides to a kotatsu, anyway.

"I know you won't find it creepy, but I set up a camera in the room anyway. It's a live feed, and Aigis gave me a ridiculous budget so it's actually really nice. I'll check in all the time, okay? I can't be here too long, what if someone realises you're here and they try to kill you again?"

There's a gentle knock on the door.

"Futaba-san, it's time," Aigis opens the door and steps through, looking at the younger girl in front of her with a smile. "You have to get back to the hotel by two if you want to catch the bus home."

Futaba hugs her knees as she looks at her mom again.

During her stay, she peppered her with things. The room had one of her favourite magical girl figurines in it now, standing strong over her mom's heart monitor. A note she handwrote in binary that says [GOODMORNINGMOM] is on the side drawer, right in front of her photograph ready for when Wakaba wakes up. A horrible doodle of a cat she saw playing in the snow sticks to her headboard.

She's not complaining. She'll never complain but… she had so many things she wanted to say, but when she did say them Wakaba just laid there. There's no shock, no anger. No laughter, no hugs.

Still though, she doesn't want to leave.

Futaba packs her bags slowly underneath the patient eye of Aigis, and right before she leaves she leans in to whisper in her ear.

"I love you, mom. Take care."

Aigis waves goodbye at the bus station, one which Futaba gingerly returns before she shrinks back into her seat.

She had given her a USB before she left.

"A few people we called in to help," Aigis had said. "They're not officially affiliated with us, but they are aware of cognitive psience and Shadows too. They're going to send in their investigation reports through this app, and with this, you can join us too. Just…" Aigis says with a small wince, "don't use MEDJED as a username, perhaps?"

"That's cool," Futaba nods, adjusting her glasses. "I've been wanting to ditch it anyway since some of the crackers using MEDJED's name are starting to go a little overboard."

Futaba thinks of the few names she's wanted to switch to on the ride back. There are quite a few ones, from mythology like Medjed, or fairy tales like Oberon. She could go Eastern with something like Suzaku, but something didn't really feel right when she thought of them.

When she was back in Sojiro's café guzzling down curry (oh how she missed this, the hotel was fancy and all, but all it had was high-quality fruits and breads and breakfast meats and smoked salmon and eggs eighteen different ways and congee in five flavours and so many types of cereal, but none of it was _curry_ ), she cracked her fingers when she slotted the USB into her computer.

Alibaba it is.

The next second, she's squinting at the screen. There seems to be a live chat function, but there were also quite a number of archives on the side. It seems like the app started professional but had quickly degraded into something half business half personal.

When Futaba clicked on a certain folder, a whole plethora of cat photos bombarded her screen, carefully marked with time, date, the name of the cat, where the cat liked to haunt, and what type of food it liked.

Who are these weirdos?

  


* * *

  


On December the 22nd, exactly a week after Takaki's accident, Takaki wakes up.

Naho spreads the news to Akechi – who had, in fact, been grounded and been left out of all subsequent shadowing – grinding out paperwork in the office with a large grin.

"Let's go, Akechi!" Naho says excitedly as she quickly pulls on her jacket and hurrying out to collect her belongings in her purse. "All this stuff can wait!"

They drive to the hospital through heavy traffic, and Akechi holds his emotions close to his chest when they get directions to Takaki's room from the receptionist. They speed walk, for the most part, to a room in the Acute Trauma part of the Orthopaedics Ward, and when they enter Takaki is sipping water with the help of a nurse, both legs in casts and hanging. There are stitches to his face that looks like it'll scar, and bandages around his torso.

But even so, his face brightens when he sees them as if he's not in hospital at all.

"Naho-san! Akechi-kun! You're here! Sorry, I was just feeling a little thirsty."

"Takaki!" Naho steps into the room with a beaming smile, "I'm so glad you're awake! You had us worried there, big guy."

There's a small sniff in the sentence that everyone ignores, as Naho steps forward to help the nurse with the cup of water, which the nurse gladly gives to her.

"Now, maximum of two visitors in the room, alright?" The nurse gives them a reminder before stepping away to go back to her duties.

Takaki looks so happy being helped by Naho that Akechi tries to step in as discreetly as possible. He puts his bag down onto a visitor's chair while Naho exchanges what's been happening – with Shibusawa and Kazuma apprehended, the Tenkosai were folding like cards. Not only was Takaki's dramatic roof dangle somewhat famous now, but it had also drawn attention to the case in greater detail. The news was raging over the media – Tokyo's underground drug rings, another glimpse at the deteriorating yakuza of the modern age. Investigative reports over the viability of prison in containing crime, a leaked report over the criminal operation being done right under the prison watch's noses.

"We've all been busy," Naho says cheerfully as Takaki listens, "but we've all been thinking of you every day. I'm sure Atsuzawa has gotten the news already, but I'll call him just in case to let him know. He's also really worried for you, you know?"

"Sorry, Naho-san," Takaki says sheepishly. "Didn't mean to worry no-one."

"Shush, and let me go make the call. Akechi can keep you company until then. I'm sure he has tonnes to say too."

With a cheerful wave, Naho speeds out the door leaving Akechi to pick up the conversation.

It's easy to turn a smile at Takaki when he's smiling back.

"Takaki-san, I'm truly glad to see you're taking your first steps into recovery."

"Me too!" Takaki says. "My last memory was seeing all that blood drip down that knife on your neck. Akechi-kun! I was so sure Shibusawa was stabbing you, but I'm glad to see you're perfectly fine, haha!"

The laugh is abruptly stopped as Takaki winces. " _Ooooh,_ not good. I see why the nurse told me to try not to laugh now."

Akechi can't help the faint exasperation that rises to his face as he takes the medical chart at the end of the bed and scans it.

"The doc told me I'm pretty lucky," Takaki says cheerfully when Akechi's frown deepens. "If I work hard, I'll probably fully recover in a year or two! Yes," Takaki continues kindly when Akechi rereads a certain line in shock, "even the paralysis. Apparently, it has a good chance of being temporary, and I accidentally twitched one of my toes or something, so it's a great sign."

Akechi slowly places the chart back and sits on the visitor's chair, observing Takaki's face, the seemingly genuine cheer.

"Takaki-san, I'm glad to see that you're as cheerful as always, but are… are you not angry?"

One of his eyebrows rise in confusion. "Huh? Why?"

"You're set to recover for so long," Akechi starts, and the confusion immediately clears on Takaki's face.

"Well, of course I'm a little angry. I had so many plans for the next two years, you know? But then I figured, I'm still pretty young. Everything I can do in the next two years… I can do two years after too! No point in making myself angry when I'm lucky enough to live! Which reminds me," Takaki says rapid-fire, "thanks for the save, Akechi-kun!"

"But I let you fall, Takaki-san," Akechi shakes his head. When Takaki reaches out a hand, Akechi raises his own in confusion but in the end, all he does is pat it. It's the same palm he had grasped, a few healing scrapes on the side.

"I only managed to fall as I did because of you, Akechi-kun! I was _thiiis_ close to falling straight on my head, you know? No doubt about it, you saved me, so accept your thanks."

Takaki beams at him, and Akechi knows a hundred different ways to respond to Takaki's bright optimism. A smile back, a joke. A compliment, a small rousing speech returning the thanks to Takaki himself for surviving.

In the end, all he says is, "That's what Atsuzawa-san said."

"And Atsuzawa-san knows best," Takaki nods, before wincing. "Oh boy, now I remember thinking this, but didn't you defy orders to come up to the roof? How's that going? Atsuzawa-san is secretly a super softie, no matter what punishment he's given you just—"

"Already speaking behind my back, are you?"

At Atsuzawa's voice, Akechi can't help but tense a little, though nothing really dims the exuberance that Takaki has when he sees Atsuzawa, Naho right behind.

"Since there's a two visitor limit, I'll excuse myself first. Takaki-san…" Akechi turns to the man in the hospital bed. The first truly living proof that destiny can change. That he's not living this second life treading the same vain track of ruin. He tilts his head in a smile. "Thank you for surviving."

Takaki is visibly trying to hold back laughter.

"Anytime, Akechi-kun! I like being alive too!"

He leaves the brightly lit hospital room for the other two, to let the original team reminisce for a bit. Sitting outside, he calculates costs for replacing some of the materials that Wakaba's concoctions need. Sometimes, just roaming Mementos allows him to collect quite a few pieces of scrap, but that fit Joker's infiltration needs more than his.

Well, he is quite rich now, if he counts the money that Shido plies him with every time he finishes a mission successfully. It was the movement of the money that was the problem – sitting on a pile of riches was useless if he couldn't use it. Many suppliers didn't deal in cash, leaving Akechi with a small headache when he thought about it.

The calculations wile time away until a pair of worn formal shoes soon enter his vision. He looks up to see Atsuzawa standing in front of him, hands casually in his pockets.

So, it is time.

"Before I tell you anything, Atsuzawa-san, may we relocate to somewhere a little quieter? Inoshikara park, perhaps?"

Atsuzawa shrugs, deep eyebags in his face that spoke of many late nights in the last week.

"Your call, kid."

The trip to the park is uneventful, for the most part, and Inoshikara Park is as peaceful as always when they walk down the path barely shadowed by the empty branches on the trees. They had, however, been coiled with lights in celebration for the coming Christmas and New Year, still unlit as it was the afternoon.

When they reach the small barrier separating the path from the lake, Akechi stops.

There are no people around, not in this cold.

Trust is well and good when he's discussing it as a topic of debate, as a concept to be examined. It's easy to use the word as a tool between friends when nothing was at stake. How many times in class had he heard his classmates say things like 'I trust you, bro, just tell me!' and 'don't you trust me? Tell me your secret already!' while gossiping over their life?

Actionable trust is a totally different beast.

Wind whistled through empty branches in echoes that would've been eerie if they had met in the dead of night, and Akechi draws out a small sheaf of papers he printed this morning. He looks down at it, and his fingers clench tight for a second before he turns around and offers it to the other man.

"For you, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa's face is slightly confused when he receives it. He flicks through the papers and sees names, numbers, conclusions on their connections, and the limited amount of paper evidence Akechi had successfully acquired, and Atsuzawa's narrow eyes are the widest he's ever seen when he looks up at Akechi.

"I've been unluckily drawn into a… conspiracy of the highest order. Please read it through and either dispose of it or place it in an absolutely secure place. I've been trying to gather intelligence on the side, but it's been quite slow. The leader of this conspiracy does not actually trust me."

Atsuzawa's still flipping through, reading over names that are sure to ring a bell.

It's a strange feeling, watching another person flipping through his hard work. In all his scenarios, he's always imagined revealing this evidence at the very end, threatening Shido with it, perhaps, after finishing his Palace. There's a bit of anxiety, a little disbelief he actually did it, after a whole week of inner debate.

But he cannot deny there is relief.

"If you wish to ask why I'm involved in this mess… As much as I'm listed as an orphan, my father is one of the names on that list. After finding him, I was unfortunately swept up in this game. Do you… have any further questions?"

Akechi's feigning patience, face placid, hands in pockets as he watches Atsuzawa frown. A few minutes later, he's cradling his head in his hands.

"Kid, I was expecting something illegal, but not this illegal. God, what did I just read? Wait, if Fusa warned me about you, doesn't that mean he knows all about this?"

Atsuzawa takes a few staggering steps to the side to lean on the closest tree. "God, I need sleep. Akechi, I know how hard this must've been for you," and a dark eye does peer up to look at Akechi standing uncertainly on the pathway. In it is acknowledgement, even if it's obviously distracted by what he just read. "Thank you. I mean it. I won't betray your trust, just… It's a little much for a Monday."

"Need a bit of time to process?" Akechi tries, inserting a bit of teasing tone to test the waters, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes as he takes out a cigarette and lights it. The smell of the cigarettes Atsuzawa smoked wasn't as acidic as some of the others that Akechi lived with through the years. In the undertone, there may have even been something sweet. The slight breeze only blew a hint of it to his nose before being whisked away.

" _Yes_. I do. I'm going to apply for a break today, go home and crash for a few hours, and tackle this beast of a thing," Atsuzawa waves the papers in his hands, "when I wake up with more than a brain cell working. Need a lift?"

Inoshikara is close enough to Shibuya, so Akechi denies it.

They leave the park together, the sheaf of papers carefully tucked in Atsuzawa's bag, and Akechi gives Atsuzawa a bow when they separate.

_Trust._

It's a tentative, anxious, hopeful feeling, and he rolls the word around in his mind as he catches the subway, indulging in a few of Germain's breads when he passes by the store. The custard between his teeth is rich and sweet, and something that he direly needs when he catches a familiar number flashing on his phone.

**Appear in the press conference next week.**

**Already arranged.**

No explanation as always, Akechi sighs as he carefully folds his trash to dump later.

What was Shido planning now?

**Justice Rank 9 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


"Catch this, Akechi."

The moment Atsuzawa walks in the door the next day, he chucks something at Akechi that he neatly catches.

"…What is this, Atsuzawa-san?" Akechi opens his palm, revealing a small, blue pin inside.

"It's something I give to undercover agents," Atsuzawa walks over to his chair to sit heavily, booting up his old computer and waiting. "You don't have to have it on your person all the time if you don't want it to, but keep it somewhere safe and discreet. The middle of the pin is also an emergency button. Try pressing it."

The small circle of metal in the middle of the pin gives slightly away, and in response, something in Atsuzawa's pocket starts beeping. Atsuzawa pulls the device out of his pocket and shows it to him – it's small and compact. All it shows on its screen is a number and some coordinates.

"The number is an identifier so I know who is calling me. Yours is number fifteen. The coordinates are your current location. It's basic, but it works well enough as an emergency signal. Ah, my computer's finally booted up. Akechi, come here."

Atsuzawa waves him over, and when Akechi rounds the corner of the table he sees that the man is filling out a form. Skimming it, in essence, it's a form to request a new, top-secret mission for an undercover agent.

At the very end, Atsuzawa types in Akechi's name before sending it to the printer. It inches out of the old copy-printer in the corner of the room that they usually never use, and when Akechi picks it up (since Atsuzawa seemed disinclined to stand back up again), he reads it over to realise, yes. It's exactly what he thinks it is.

He turns around, feeling complicated.

"Atsuzawa-san?"

"All you have to do is sign it," Atsuzawa waves. "After you do, I need to finish some paperwork and get it past a few guys, but basically you'll be an undercover agent under our SIU to investigate for government corruption. From this moment on, you'll be our double-agent. I don't know enough to extract you yet, so this is all I can do to protect you if you get under fire from the law."

Akechi looks at the documents in his hands and slowly takes a pen from Atsuzawa's desk.

After he signs it, he scans it at the printer. Atsuzawa grunts in acknowledgement when his computer receives it.

"Although I hate to remind you, Atsuzawa-san, please remember that you cannot trust the SIU Director."

Atsuzawa sighs. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten. The old man is in on this too."

Then deliberately, in full view, he presses aeroplane mode before sending the email.

"Will you look at that," Atsuzawa says conversationally, unwrapping a lollipop. "My computer is so old that it keeps disconnecting from the internet at odd times."

Akechi is in a little disbelief when Atsuzawa continues.

"It seems like my email will be in my outbox for the next few weeks because everyone knows I'm sloppy with my paperwork. Since my budget is cut and my personnel is so tight, Naho just wasn't available to check for me. What a shame." Atsuzawa sighs. "l guess I'll send it in with another ten reports a few weeks later in the New Year rush, and it's not as if it's my fault if the old man does the usual and skims the title of all my attachments and doesn't realise that I'm converting an anonymous double-agent. Security, you know. Being the head of our Organised Crime department has its perks."

There's a little smirk on Atsuzawa's rugged face.

"And even if he does blame me later for not clarifying it, I can just apologise while sending you an emergency message. Sorry kid," Atsuzawa scratches his head. "I thought all night. This is all I can do for you now."

Give and take.

Akechi is standing in front of an offer that will save him even if he gets found to be one of Shido's people in the end. He does not need to walk himself to jail at the very end, confessing how he was an accomplice to Shido's crimes.

It's a rare, uncertain smile that comes unbidden onto his face, cautious, small. It feels strange on his face because he isn't consciously directing what he should be portraying. His mentor seems to appreciate it anyway since Atsuzawa replies with a smile full of teeth that Akechi thinks is his effort to be encouraging, and Akechi can't help but feel overwhelmed.

Does he understand what he's offered?

For the first time in many years, he felt _free_.

As long as Atsuzawa is still alive, even if Shido tries to drag him down or defame him, tries to blame incidents on his back or lure him deeper into his circles, he can still _escape_.

"That's more than enough, Atsuzawa-san. This is… far more than I ever could have expected. May… may I ask why?"

"Why?" Atsuzawa's face falls back into a more familiar thoughtful scowl. "What do you mean?"

"What you did just now," Akechi rallies up enough of his thoughts, "if you get caught, then you've effectively placed your head on the chopping block alongside mine."

"I'll be fine," Atsuzawa dismisses. "As much as I don't wish to admit it, I have contacts in the government and business. And if I get kicked out of the police, I have enough of a reputation to be a private eye or something. I'm always ready to bear the weight of my decisions when I make them, kid."

"And hmm," he continues, scratching his cheek. "Why am I doing this? Easy. Someone recently accepted a teenage intern who is polite and weirdly competent, and it turns out that they've been dragged into a hot mess of a conspiracy because of his evil dad. Like any sane person, they would dismiss it as chuunibyou speak if it wasn't that their cousin, who works in _intelligence_ , outright telling you that the kid was 'dangerous'."

Atsuzawa huffs a breath of amusement as he eyes Akechi, still standing there, listening.

"But then he took another look and all he could see was a good kid way over his head. A kid who stuck their head out and trusted him. So," Atsuzawa leans back into his chair, placing his feet on the table. "Since it's literally their job to look into stuff like this, what did they do?"

Akechi looks down at the tiny badge in his hand and grasps it tight.

In the silence of the office, the next few words ring loud in Akechi's mind.

"They help," Atsuzawa says, eyes patient, like it's a simple fact of life, "because it's the right thing to do."

"…Thank you, Atsuzawa-san."

"Anytime, kiddo."

**Justice Rank 10 – Fusazane Atsuzawa**

  


* * *

  


Unbeknownst to Akechi, his pocket flashes.

The red eye on his Metaverse app blinks, listening. Watching.

Deep in the bowels of unconsciousness, where concepts and reality collide, spindly fingers weave together. Little appendages they were, strange joints held together by skin and tendon and bone. Not that, of course, he nor the man he was impersonating were strictly _human_ , but the experience is novel, all the same.

In front of him in the amalgamate energy of an undefined Velvet Room stand two girls standing vigilant, faces serious. Sometimes they touch the eyepatch on their face. Sometimes they glance at their Master, wondering what was so amusing.

For it was truly amusing, wasn't it, that his own, chosen hero was choosing _hope_.

The game has not even begun, there has been no Trickster that appeared yet, but he sees imminent loss. Perhaps the forces of Salvation are still not strong in his Chosen's heart, but his yearning for Destruction has certainly… diminished.

Truly a fascinating development in a game he had been so sure he would win.

He leans Igor's figure into the chair provided by the twins, revelling in the sensation of a mobile physicality.

And he muses, watching. A wide smile spreads across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks so much guys! Some of your comments made me laugh? Sorry :] I may say this often, but I'm so pleasantly surprised that so many of you are invested in Atsuzawa and Co. Cos you know. OCs. Heh. (Takaki lived, but it was a close decision. It made sense, that he was a hidden requirement to get Atsuzawa to Rank 8. I'll explore grief another time XD). His arc is over now, but he'll pop in from time to time. I kind of imagine Atsuzawa as the protag of his own detective manga in another world- sharp faced detective with his bumbling sidekick, a childhood friend secretary, and a weirdly competent pretty-boy intern investigating yet another case, Conan style. 
> 
> But Akechi finally got the Justice Rank 10 I was aiming for - his exit ticket for the ultimate endgame situation. Also, Futaba has been chucked into a new group of people that... maybe?  
> P5 is definitely 22/23 ish so I'm proud to get so far! :D I'm also really glad that so many familiar names pop up now and then in the comments in addition to anyone new - thanks guys. Transition arc is Shido arc, unfortunately. He's a little disgusting.  
> Sorry if this chapter is a little dodgy, but I went back to work and bleh. I love that I'm getting money, but work is a little? Soulcrushing? I'll do minor edits throughout the week.  
>   
> Since it's chapter 20 now (wow @_@) here's a status update!  
> Universe Rank 10 - Minato Arisato  
> Fortune Rank 10 - Wakaba Ishikki  
> Justice Rank 10 - Fusazane Atsuzawa  
> Devil Rank 2 - Masayoshi Shido  
> Fool Rank 2 - Akira Kurusu  
> Hermit Rank 1 - Futaba Ishikki/Sakura  
> Moon Rank 1 - Sae Niijima  
> Sun Rank 1 - Ise Saito  
> See you guys next week! ^^'


	21. Chapter 21

Akechi had never picked up on _social inequality_ until he entered kindergarten. It was little, unconscious things, at first, because his first few teachers were nice enough towards children who did not stand out, did not cry or shout or scream, to those who remained obedient.

His uniform that came from the second-hand store, extra cheap because of a stain on the back, versus the girl who had a different clip in her hair every day, who showed off her new crayons and colour-matched pencil cases every week. The way he kept in the middle of the pack during sports while watching the more athletic ones show off, the lagging students pant in desperate gasps. How he would pick up everything so much quicker than anyone else.

Reading, drawing, mathematics, writing.

Being a smart kid had the advantage of teachers explaining away his lack of excitement and boisterousness as a simple combination of 'introversion' and 'studiousness', and this suited him perfectly.

Perhaps the notion was not yet perfectly articulated in his mind when he was still young, when all of them were still scrambling around something they still didn't understand. Something children chased even in all their praised ignorance and naivety. When some of the kids would shyly praise Akechi when he got called up in front of class for perfect marks yet again. When everyone jumped at the chance to be picked during sports and not be the last one. When all of them stayed stubbornly silent when a teacher pointed accusingly at a soaked book thrown into the sink, secretly guilty, secretly relieved.

It is instinct, a younger Akechi realised, for humans to rank themselves. Even if there was no teacher, no external force. A person had to be good at even one thing to avoid being dismissed. To be acknowledged, you had to be great. And if you were weak at everything, if you haven't found something that others could assign some points of social worth, then all you would be is fodder. Fodder, to be chewed on by those who were only 'good' at what they were proud of, those who were insecure that they weren't 'great' and seeking something else they could prove themselves with – power over others.

His mother, lazy in the morning with only an old shirt and shorts on, face bare of makeup. Still beautiful enough to turn heads before an elbow and a whisper and a pitiful glance down at Akechi holding his mother's hand. His mother, thin-skinned, would pretend not to care while her nails dug into the back of Akechi's fingers.

Akechi never complained.

"You beat Takeshi?" His mother laughed once over an exam Akechi had given her, and in her voice were slivers of something hard and unforgiving. "Hah! Serves his mother right. What was she bragging so much for when her son is so average?"

Akechi hadn't yet mastered _amae_ when he was seven. He hadn't yet understood the importance of smiling when people wanted him to. So he stared up his mother, watching her as he always did. He watched her features flicker when she looked down at him, still standing near her knee, and look back at the test paper.

He can identify what it was now. Guilt. A little self-loathing.

But back then all he could do was continue staring when his mother suddenly smiled, the warm one that made Akechi feel hopeful for a good day. She kneeled and hugged him, letting him hook his chin over her shoulder as she lifted him with a grunt of effort and headed towards the kitchen.

"I nearly forgot to tell you, Goro! Congratulations, I'm so proud of you! Anything you want to eat, today?"

It only took a few steps before they left their living room and entered their tiny kitchen. It was silly that she didn't just lead him by the hand, but Akechi found himself winding his arms back around her in a hug anyway.

She, Akechi thought to himself, was probably not the best mother. Perhaps, many would even say she did not even qualify as 'good'.

But she tried. And that, Akechi thought as he let his head rest on her neck, was all that mattered.

He had always been blessed with understanding matters that many thought he shouldn't. Even when he didn't, he would catalogue it in his memory and think on it over and over again until he did.

So he understood, on the day he went back home and found his mother hanging from her bedroom ceiling.

On that day, he was _not enough_. That day, he had finally become someone not worth living for.

But perhaps it has always been his fatal flaw, to care too much about the why. He replayed the scene over and over again, because there was still one, perennial question.

Why. Why. _Why?_

A younger Akechi could not help but question what had tipped the scales so drastically. The short report claimed that the recent loss of her job and the stresses of single motherhood were probably the cause.

That did not satisfy Akechi.

Because Akechi remembered other details. Angry phone calls. A long day trip, with the train tickets sticking out of his mother's wallet to a district, when he looked it up, was very rich. Especially silent dinners. His mother fired the next day despite being promised a promotion, and his mother's incurable, sudden anger. Avoiding Akechi's eyes. The abrupt end to any hopeful statements about his absent father. Failed attempts to get a new job, the emptying of their whole alcohol cabinet she kept for guests. A rapid, visual degeneration every day Akechi opened the door back home.

The dots were obvious.

His father had driven his mother to suicide.

  


* * *

  


He had thought he was going to spend Christmas and New Years alone, as usual. Although some of the orphanages he'd been to had kind directors who stretched budget as much as possible to celebrate the two holidays, they usually ended up all bunched up in front of a lone television in a room, with the only special privilege an extra sweet and being allowed to sleep at midnight. Under foster parents, some had made some token effort, but he had preferred to stay alone by choice.

In the years under Shido, Christmas and New Years had public networking events so Akechi was mostly left alone to his devices.

During this time, he mostly wandered.

Christmas was for couples and New Years for families. There were couple specials all along the streets, of usually conservative pairs happily holding hands while exiting and entering restaurants, shops, parks. There was life even in the bitter cold, from celebratory lights to sweet-faced marketers. So he walked, with a face-mask over his face, and watched. A habit of his, he'd laughingly say to interviewers, that may be one of the reasons that he was such a good detective.

If he was to be truthful, he usually watched because he didn't understand. From young to now, he liked to watch and learn before taking action, and there were yet so many things he didn't understand about the humans beside him. On bitter days, this lack of understanding fuelled cynicism. On better days, it was just a way to feed a vague emptiness.

Apartments, office buildings, towering over the skyline in metal and concrete, and each of those blazing windows hiding a person's life, a family's story. So many people, enjoying one special day determined to be joyful.

His original Christmas in 2014 had been marred by the fact that he had found Shido's spy-cams in his apartment. The next few days had been… a game of stealth, as he tried to find any more and place any personal items he had collected into blind spots or, even, just throwing them out altogether. He'd donated his start at a book collection, he'd kept his desk filled with only things related to school and Shido's work. Clothing was limited to only his uniforms and the semi-formal clothing Shido preferred. By the end of Christmas and nearing New Years, his apartment had returned to what it looked like before – a modern magazine cut out. He left display cases empty, bought expensive things that he didn't really like. Perhaps it was then, that moment when he saw the product of what he'd once dreamed would become his home. When he had surrounded himself with the remnants of paranoia and fear that it had finally dawned on his sixteen-year-old self how utterly stupid he had been. How deep he had already sunk.

It was strange to revisit a Christmas of yesteryear.

The feelings of suffocating helplessness were gone, for one. Walking down streets that were glimmering with the dust of snow all lit with the light of blazing storefronts, he walked down gleaming pavement while weaving slowly past the crowd. He kept his hands in his pockets as he strolled, finding vague amusement watching his breath puff out in white clouds. The crowd around him wasn't the usual hunched tiredness of businessmen, but a more youthful crowd glowing with energy and laughter.

Akechi wanders and does not tread the streets he walked before.

Instead, his feet lead him to an overly familiar alleyway, in the backstreets of Yongen. They are filled as always with locals, the elderly chatting in various corners and families returning home. He sticks out a little with the jackets and shirts that are ironed perfectly and coordinated to his liking, since less youth than usual haunt the area.

He's early enough that LeBlanc still isn't closed. It's a warm light down the side aisle, and he's lucky enough that there are a few customers already sitting inside enjoying a chat. Someone was rising from the seat he usually sits, and Akechi smoothly allows the other man to pass him to the exit before sliding into it.

Since it's late, Akechi responds with a smile and a higher voice than normal when Sojiro raises an eyebrow at him.

"Welcome. Anything you want?"

"A mocha please," Akechi replies, and a few minutes later a warm mocha is placed in front of him, and he picks it up and feels the heat through his gloves. The scent is deep and aromatic, and he sips it with satisfaction, stirring once in a while to evenly distribute some of the chocolate that had sunk to the bottom. He appreciates the familiar smells of LeBlanc, the scents he has come to associate with familiarity and amused eyes.

When he's thoroughly warm inside out, he tunes out the elderly couple's conversation behind him and puts the fare for the coffee on the counter. As he's walking out, he sees a person on the other side so he politely opens the door to let them through first. The other bounds in the shop without even looking at him and Akechi hides a wry smile.

"Sojirooo! When are you closing shop, dinner just arrived! It's gonna get cold!" Futaba runs up to the counter, and Akechi steps through the opened door to avoid suspicion. Glancing back through the door, Futaba Sakura looks happy, not even minding the elderly couple behind her as she rapidly speaks something indecipherable to the fond smile of Sojiro's face. Her face has filled out, and the warm light of LeBlanc lights up the slightly manic grin on her face that's one hundred percent Wakaba.

He didn't even have a mask on today, and he doesn't want to risk Futaba's exceptional memory when she actually focuses. So, with that, he leaves.

Ten minutes later, Futaba is tapping furiously on her phone while Sojiro cleans up shop when he lets out a sigh.

"Someone forgot a Christmas present," he says, looking at the thin envelope in his hand. "While I clean, can you look after it for me, Futaba? They might come back to get it soon."

"Okay, Sojiro," Futaba says as Sojiro puts the envelope in front of her so that he could keep wiping down the bar. She only takes a glance at it, memorising it instantly as she returns back to furiously typing a defence of her favourite character on a shipping forum when her brain catches up.

 _'Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year'_ was self-explanatory, a tag typed in normal font stuck to the envelope. What wasn't was who it was from. Two letters stuck out at her when her eyes zoomed back to it.

GA.

"Sojiro!" She screeches, grabbing the envelope and standing up abruptly on her seat. "Where did you get this?!"

"Wh-whoa, Futaba, get down from the seat first. It's dangerous," Sojiro turns, eyes wide when he saw Futaba waving the envelope towards his face.

"I know this guy!" Futaba says, eyes wide as she hops off the seat and onto the floor again. "How did you get it?"

Sojiro's feeling a little bewildered (because when had Futaba gotten guy friends?) but answers anyway.

"I found it lying close to the books. If I wasn't cleaning I wouldn't have found it since it was half slid under the stack… Hey, what are you doing, Futaba?"

Futaba was lifting up every individual book and scrutinising it, even squinting her eyes at the bar table Sojiro just wiped. "Who sat here?"

"A few customers throughout the day. The last one was a young boy, hasn't come in for a while. He used to eat curry here often, but he hasn't stopped by recently…"

Futaba seemed close to hyperventilating, and Sojiro eyes her with concern.

What sort of boy troubles was she sucked into? Isn't she a little too young?

"He was a REGULAR?"

"I-I mean, yes, he was the one who opened the door for you when you came in. What's with the grilling, Futaba?"

The next few minutes were filled with Sojiro bewilderedly fielding questions about the boy's physical appearance (a nice young man?), how often he came (well, he stopped a few months back, and at that answer, Futaba had a deep scrunch of her eyebrows), and demanding him to give security footage (you know we don't have cameras, Futaba!).

After all that, Sojiro didn't even question it when Futaba rips open the envelope and pulls out the slip of paper inside. It's a delivery order for the latest, fully licensed new limited-edition model for Magical Girl Potena's 10th anniversary, Sojiro's address already filled in and Futaba looks at it for a second before diving forward and wrapping her arms around Sojiro.

Sojiro didn't complain about Futaba's glasses digging into his ribs as he returns the hug, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

"W-was he alone?" Came Futaba's last question, and Sojiro is _so confused._

"Yeah, he came in alone. That boy usually comes alone though. Futaba, what's going on?"

Futaba doesn't answer, like fifty percent of the times Sojiro asks her a question, as she's already ripped herself away and stormed over to the door.

"GA you idiot!" She yells through the doorway before slamming it shut and returning to her phone, clutching the mail order tightly in her hand as she scrolls angrily for a good deal for security cameras. "Aaaaargh! I'm so pissed!"

Sojiro looks at her and leaves it be, for now, returning to cleaning with a long sigh.

After a small silence, while Sojiro was putting away the cleaning supplies, Futaba's angry scowl finally transforms into a pout.

"You could've stayed, stupid…"

  


* * *

  


Snow fell more heavily than usual when, on New Years, Naho sent Akechi a text.

[We're going to surprise Takaki in the hospital! Want to join?]

It's not as if he had anything better to do, so Akechi went to the convenience store to buy a few snacks before catching a taxi to the hospital because he was cold. When he arrived there, Atsuzawa was downstairs with Naho waiting.

"Ooh, more snacks," Atsuzawa says when he nears, eyeing the plastic bags in Akechi's hands before Naho whacks his shoulder.

"We'll eat when we get to Takaki's room! Come on," Naho smiles as she turns around and leads the way down the corridors to the trauma ward. The other man obviously wasn't expecting them to come, eyes trained on the small television hanging above his bed playing Red verses White before the door slides open and he turns. The look of surprise transforms immediately into joy.

"You guys! Akechi-kun too!" Takaki turns his smile from Atsuzawa and Naho to Akechi. "You came!"

"We couldn't have our traditional New Years party, so here we are," Naho grins back, and Akechi notices that she put on a fancier make up than usual. The colours are more vibrant and festive, and her hair was let down from her usual bun to a fancy braid, and Akechi's only glad he's never been as obvious as Takaki because he looked moonstruck.

Atsuzawa's only reaction is to roll his eyes.

"Hey, mister non-subtle, we got some of your favourite snacks that we cleared with the doctor!"

He dumps the bags he's holding onto the chair and rolls his shoulders. Akechi does the same, and they settle into the room even though Takaki still had a two-visitor limit, bantering over card games. They all play against each other, Naho and Takaki in a team because of the latter's limited mobility, and Akechi wins every single game without a flicker of his smile.

"My apologies," he says as he lays down a flush, and Atsuzawa glares down at his hand.

"I give up," he grumbles, chewing on a lollipop. "I'm the only one trying anyway. What prize do you want?"

"I've heard wonderful stories about your singing prowess, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says nonchalantly as he packs all the cards neatly into a stack. "May I request you to sing a song?"

Naho and Takaki take this moment to laugh, and Atsuzawa stands up with a groan.

"You little shits," he grumbles. "You asked for it."

The resulting squawks summons five nurses from surrounding rooms complaining of the noise, and they're all kicked out of the room with a scolding. The three of them are left standing at the entrance of the hospital ready to go home, and Akechi is surprised to see the sky already dark. It was still afternoon when he arrived.

"Shoot, I forgot something! Wait here for a moment," Naho says, before hurrying back into the hospital leaving other two behind. Akechi watches her enter back into the blinding hospital with a lingering smile.

Atsuzawa takes this as the moment to lean onto the building, smile fading a little as he takes out a cigarette.

"By the way, Akechi. The old man specifically asked for our whole team to be at the press conference next week. He underlined that everyone involved in the Tenkosai case on our team had to be there. Know anything about that?"

There's a little concern in his voice, and Akechi sighs.

"I already received notification on that from my own contacts, Atsuzawa-san. Don't worry, I don't think it's anything too concerning for now."

Atsuzawa frowns in thought but ends up nodding.

"Alright, I'll trust your judgment for now. Tell me if you need me to do anything," he says through another billow of smoke, and Akechi doesn't really know how to respond to the feeling in his chest. It's a strangely solid feeling, to know that Atsuzawa had his back no matter his choice.

"Thank you for the reminder, Atsuzawa-san. And… thank you for today's invitation as well." Akechi's eyes glance over the hospital, a place of dread only a few days ago suddenly transforming into a warm memory. "It was… fun."

"Gotta loosen up a bit, kid," Atsuzawa grins. "Don't wanna develop stress lines early, am I right?"

"I'd be more worried about stress lines for you, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi returns easily. "Smoking is bad for skin health as well, and you'll look more aged in comparison to your peers if you continue."

"Ugh, stop nagging me," Atsuzawa complains even while scuffing the cigarette under his heel. "Why is my whole team like this."

Naho comes out then, cheeks flushed and happy, and Atsuzawa gives them all a ride home.

Back in his dorm room, Akechi closes his windows and puts in one of Minato's CDs as background music. Comfortable with a book on hand, he settles back into his room and enjoys the quiet atmosphere, the soft drift of snow outside his windows, the comfortable lighting he's set up inside. Warm air pours from the air-conditioning, and he feels toasty and warm and strangely not alone when he glances at his phone at exactly 0:00 and sees a text.

[Akira Kurusu: Happy New Year, Akechi.]

Attached is a picture of a delicate branch of plum blossoms.

It's ridiculous to think a moment such as this as fragile. Time passes and changes are a constant. It is a fact that a second will only be a second no matter an individual's perception of it. There is actually no fragility to be found.

But his fingers move slowly as he replies.

[Akechi Goro: Thank you very much. Happy New Year as well, Kurusu-kun. I hope that the coming year will be kind to all of us.]

He's sitting in his peach-glow of a small dorm, and not the large LDK that Shido had given him last time. Instead of forcing himself to wander the streets to avoid scrutiny and being faced with everyone's happiness, he's warm, comfortable, and spent a day with friends of his own.

It's only been half a year, but he's saved Wakaba and Takaki, he's gained Atsuzawa, he's met Akira. He hasn't committed anything too horrendous yet, and if anyone tries to pin the comas on him he can expose the evidence he has – not strong enough for a conviction, but definitely enough for scandal – and wake them up. He's financially secure, even discounting Shido's money, as he's saved up anything the internship and Mementos gave him.

The only thing truly holding him back was his legal status as an emancipated minor, and that will disappear naturally when he turns eighteen, half-way through his third year.

If he is aware of his tenuous control under Shido, then Shido is definitely aware of this as well.

At that thought, all he does is place a bookmark calmly into the novel – a fantasy epic detailing the journey of a controversial hero – and prepares to go to sleep.

  


* * *

  


The press conference is controlled and professional, as veteran reporters wear formal clothing in front of the bench of ranking policemen. Even Atsuzawa is in a pressed uniform looking like a grizzled veteran, sitting straight as reporters asked about the Tenkosai roundup and Yokohoma Prison Scandal in which he replied with simple, to the point answers.

Akechi was standing behind the bench, at the edge of the camera like an assistant. Atsuzawa had placed him there on purpose. There is absolutely no reason why he would have to speak or attract attention.

"There was a splash in the media a few weeks ago," a reporter voices. "It was shared widely until it was taken down."

Atsuzawa frowns, while the officer next to him – someone Akechi vaguely recognises as part of the more PR focused part of the force, replies.

"All officers present injured on the scene survived and are on their way to recovery," replies the man, and the reporter doesn't falter.

"Can we have any statements from people involved? Many people are interested in how it happened. The video captured quite an intense moment where a young man was desperately trying to hold another officer from falling while being held hostage himself. If I'm correct," the reporter says rapid-fire, "it seems like that is the young man in question?"

And Akechi finds himself in the middle of attention.

It's automatic to paste his television smile on his face, the charming one that Shido's agents had told him to perfect. It's a smile that works for shots both profile and head-on.

"My apologies, but I'm merely an intern under the Special Investigations Unit for Organised Crime."

"Yes, he's my intern," Atsuzawa cuts in, and the cameras cut back to him. "Although he's an irreplaceable part of my team, please direct your questions to me. We are not a media outlet, and the purpose of this conference is to inform the public of the Tenkosai and Yokohama Prison incidents. Please keep on topic."

The reporters turn back to Atsuzawa, who continues to field questions alongside the rest of the panel until they leave.

Those few seconds truly shouldn't have done anything. Akechi knew just how long he had incubated his skills – as meagre as the amount he was allowed to touch – before he even splashed any sort of popularity in the media.

For a strange reason, it's different this time.

Right after the serious conference release, a magazine has coverage of _'A New Detective Prince?! The Mysterious Boy In The Viral Rooftop Showdown Video Revealed!'_

There's an article in it that's only a page long, but hits upon the viral video and the mysterious people in it. Takaki is featured briefly before they delve into Akechi.

An intern at an elite government investigations unit at only sixteen, the top scholarship student at a prestigious school, an orphan who climbed to his current success. There are snippets of other people interviewed in the Police Department that cite Akechi helping them in cases that he's only ever heard of cursorily, with only one real interview with Sae that states shortly that he was an intelligent young man who helped her with Nezu's high profile abuse case. Accompanied with that are a few shots of Akechi that make him look hardworking and serious, all shots in the most flattering profile.

The very next day, his classroom erupts as the article somehow trends.

"Akechi-kun, I never knew that you were working at such an amazing place!" Classmates that never even talked to him before gushed.

"You were the one saving that guy on the rooftop? That's so cool, man!" Another boy exclaimed excitedly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Says a girl with sparkling eyes that he recognises, whose opinions always swayed alongside the adjectives magazines used for him.

Akechi sits through it all like he did last time.

"My apologies," he says with his blandest honour student smile. "Many matters are kept confidential in the office, and as I'm merely an intern I don't have much clearance at all."

The excitement fades little. In fact, his life as a topic worked through the buzz in the rest of the week. Even some detectives in other departments believe it and jokingly ask for advice on certain questions that Akechi tries to answer as courteously as possible. That somehow leaks into a later article.

Throughout the whole week, his popularity shoots through the roof.

This can only be possible because of one person.

Akechi honestly had a whole afternoon just sitting at his desk, listing out reasons why Shido would wish to propel him into the spotlight so quickly. Did he think he was still the boy who craved attention from the public?

Sure, that part never truly died. Akechi cannot deny that some part of him will always be satisfied when someone praised him. Akechi was never one to deny his just achievements. He had never been made to be humble, as much as he posed it on the surface. If that was the case, the next few weeks will prove Shido wrong. Being popular was hardly worth sacrificing his life for.

Was Shido setting him up for scandal? Being embroiled in something illegal would get him kicked out of his internship immediately.

But that would be in direct violation of the convenient role of 'Detective Prince' that Shido was already starting. At most, he would fade Atsuzawa out of the Tokyo branch like he'd been the past few months before they had caught the major lead in Tokyo and force Akechi to join another branch at the end of his year-long internship.

There are other types of scandals. Ones that could ruin his reputation, ones that could see him expelled from school. But those hardly needed popularity to obtain – Shido could just plant false evidence and let his school do the rest.

What was Shido planning?

  


* * *

  


After another week, he receives a little understanding of the situation. There is one solid benefit to becoming famous so quickly.

They're in another one of Shido's apartments, this one close to the inner city.

"Now that you have enough of a reputation, you will pose as the young associate of one of my colleagues," Shido says, standing tall. He's in a black suit today, dressed to impress. Masayoshi Shido was not an ugly man, built sturdily but still slim. Perhaps it's only for image's sake, but he kept himself well for a man who was in his fifties. "Tomorrow at the InterContinental Hotel there is an important gala. You have two targets. You need a 'keyword' to enter those Palaces, correct? Use this gala to find them out."

Shido has a fondness, Akechi thinks absentmindedly, for standing against the light. Perhaps he thought his silhouette was more intimidating or attractive?

"Find the 'keyword' for two people," Shido continued while examining his reflection and shooting a smile at it. "Teruo Matsutani, a competitor of Okumura Foods. He's trying to open a chain of fast-food stores in the Kyoto area where Big Bang Burger also wishes to locate. By taking him down. Kunikazu Okumura promises to support my campaign."

Running a few dates in his head, it does match his understanding of Okumura's involvement with Shido. Last time Akechi had joined these parties a little later. He definitely hadn't been part of the Okumura take-over, as something so large wouldn't have slipped his mind.

(What changed?)

"The second target is Kunikazu Okumura himself," Shido commands, adjusting his tie. "If he breaks the deal and does not join us after we deal with Matsutani, we will have to disable him to avoid leaking our secret out. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Shido-san," Akechi replies, reining in his thoughts and defaulting to his standard response.

"Good. This operation is a large one, but I believe in your capabilities, Akechi." Shido's eyes slide towards his, and his smile is a single, confident slant. "I expect you not to disappoint me. To show how much I appreciate you, there's a tailor in the next room who will prepare a suit you can wear for tomorrow."

There was indeed a tailor when he entered the next room who professionally measured Akechi before sliding him into an off-white shirt and a dark grey suit with a tie of a muted green. Shoes, pocket-squares, cufflinks, extra accessories, even teaching him how to brush his hair for tomorrow; the tailor politely showed it all.

Akechi thanks the tailor even though he already learnt how to dress years back, and hangs the suit carefully on the back of his door that night.

Although this is a change he didn't predict – and perhaps, not even manufactured by himself – all he has to do is continue what he does best.

Adaptation, he thinks as he idly straightens a wrinkle, is not particularly hard if you're throwing a fish back into water.

If Shido was hoping he would make a blunder when mingling with high society, then he was very wrong.

  


* * *

  


"Ahahaha! Yes, I reconnected with Akechi-kun only recently. I knew his father, one of my close friends in high school, an exceptional guy, and who would know his son would grow to be just as exceptional?"

The man Shido chose him to be 'associates' with was loud and boisterous, but not of Takaki's type where Akechi could still tolerate because of its sheer sincere energy. This man has beady eyes and the calculative language of a businessman, and he laughs not to express joy or surprise, but to attract attention and deflect questions.

Akechi tucks the disdain he feels in his heart as he turns on his own smile – a charming, slightly naïve one that plays to his youth.

He's not here to make connections. If he were a businessman, he wouldn't be using this smile at all. A cunning one maybe, one that shows his own strength in their battlefield.

But he is here to disarm and wile information. To do this, he needs to lower defences, not intrigue them.

The chandelier above them glitters with bright gleams of white crystal, and the carpet underneath his feet is plush without enough volume to trip anyone. There are roving attendants holding platters of appetisers and wine before the dinner truly starts, and everyone is chatting while watching for people they wish to know.

"It's the new Detective Prince!" The woman falls for the bait, eyes crinkling into a smile. "I've heard amazing things about you recently. You certainly have a bright future."

"Your praise is too much, Yamato-san," he replies with a bow, and the woman reacts like expected. She raises her eyebrows and leans back slightly.

"You know me?"

"I have a lasting interest in orphanages for… obvious reasons," Akechi says with a little laughter, tinging it with a bit of sadness. "And I can't help but remember your charity work concerning non-profit organisations that strive to change the system. Your donations are helping to transform the lives of many orphans, Yamato-san. That's the truly admirable act here."

"Oh, you talk so sweet," Yamato smiles, and even though her smile warms a little there is still a distance before it reaches her eyes. Guarded, like everyone here. Personal feelings had no place here, though she is obviously pleased. "Yet so young. Akechi-kun, would you escort me to the drink tables over there? I see a few acquaintances I wish to greet."

"I would be glad to, Yamato-san, if Chuzo-san agrees?"

Shido's man laughs again, loudly.

"Who am I to stop you, Yamato-san? Please."

Through Yamato, who he continues to entertain with conversation on carefully tailored opinions of the current social security system, he meets a group of ladies, one of which was Matsutani's wife.

Akechi smoothly inserts himself into the conversation because of Yamato's help, who was willing to help him a little because of her discussion with him. She had been Akechi's target of choice – Lady Yamato was the partner of an old nobleman who also dabbled in business. She had political interests but rarely had the chance to join in the conversation because of the traditional mindset her husband had. He'd known this fact a little late in his last life, but it was knowledge useful here and now.

The conversation derails the moment he joins the ladies. From politics, he has to change track to culture. Specifically, the Philharmonic Orchestra performance next week.

"Out of Sibelius's repertoire of works, I find myself appreciating the tone poem _Finlandia_ , even though it is an obvious choice out of his works," Akechi chuckles self-consciously.

"What do you like about it?" Matsushita's wife asks, her face round and curious. She doesn't know yet that her life will come crashing down her ears soon, and Akechi hums.

"It is a piece made to protest censorship and oppression from Russia, a celebration of Finnish history and perseverance," Akechi replies smoothly, allowing his hands to deflect some attention. A string quartet echoes from somewhere across the reception. "Although many would find it a turbulent piece, it echoes the importance of struggle and persistence, and the honour in doing so. It's poetic, isn't it?"

"Such a piece suits a young man like you very well," Yamato cuts in, smile a perfect, unreadable curve. "Is that why you're striving in the justice system?"

"I believe that it is the duty of all citizens to try and better their country," Akechi demurs, and Matsushita's wife smiles wide.

"I'm so glad to hear such responsible youths still exist," she says. "I read so many things these days in the news, it's terrifying."

Conversation derails again, and Akechi is unhurried as he slowly turns talk towards Matsushita's feelings towards her husband. Things are rarely happy in the marriages of the upper crust, Akechi has long found, and many are eager to vent when they can.

"He's long-abandoned me," Matsushita's wife sighs after Akechi fetches her a cup of champagne. "My contribution to the family is over, and he lorded over me when I was his source of money. He's like a dragon, and now he's just transferred his treasure hoard to the company."

"I'm sure that isn't the case, Matsushita-san," Akechi says placatingly, even as he counts the minutes until the gala dinner is going to begin. Two minutes more of this conversation. "You are his wife, and a human being is irreplaceable."

"Thank you, Akechi-kun," Matsushita's wife smiles. "Even if they are only platitudes, it soothes my heart to hear it. Not many are willing to spend the time to listen to me. Are you interested in the road of politics? I can introduce you to a few people I know."

"No," Akechi shakes his head. "Perhaps it may sound silly to you, but I truly wish to work in the Justice System when I am older. I wish to support our existing citizens and keep order more than guide their future path."

A voice rings, calling for people to start filtering to dinner, and Matsushita's wife gives him a little bow.

"It is a shame our conversation has to end, Akechi-kun. May we meet again."

"It was an honour to speak to you, Matsushita-san," Akechi smiles back, perfectly polite as he bows her off. They both enter the dining area through separate doors. She had been a kind woman, Akechi thinks as he cuts through a delicate piece of duck and fields questions on the current state of the economy at the table next to Shido's associate. With Matsushita's collapse, he only hopes she doesn't feel too burdened.

After dinner is another hour of mingling, and this was the time that was allotted for him to find Kunikazu Okumura's keyword. As he already knew it, he escaped to the back gardens of the hotel instead.

The air is nice and chill on his face, a breath of sharp cold that feels like it would crystallise in his lungs. January is still blisteringly cold at night-time, even if they were half a month in. He quickly starts freezing the more he ventures out into the dark, fingers growing numb and legs frozen to the knees.

He hears no more of the more modern music booming out of the speakers for the sake of the dance floor so far away from the golden balconies blazing out into the dark. He's near a row of empty bushes as he follows the path looping around the different sections of the garden.

Perhaps it's because of a small habit – when walking alone, in dark enough spaces, he liked to look up for stars – that he doesn't notice the figure crouching by the side of the pathway until he nearly trips over them.

"Whoa!" The figure – a girl's voice – says in a fluster while Akechi quickly finds his balance with a few light steps forward. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? I'm so sorry for crouching in the dark, I just saw a small flower growing on the path…"

When Akechi turns around, he sees that the girl has stood up. Akechi's the one backlit by the golden light streaming from the ballroom behind him, so it's the girl's face that is lit up to him.

Haru Okumura smiles at him with embarrassment, kind concern in her eyes.

  


* * *

  


"I was taking a break too," the girl says in delight as they agreed to walk around the path together. Haru had only introduced herself as 'Haru', and Akechi suspected it may be because she wanted to avoid disingenuity on his part, and he'd played along. She's only wearing a light dress, even though her jacket has a fur lining and her socks look warm. "Corporate dinners are very suffocating at times, even though I understand their necessity."

"It's my first one and I understand what you mean," Akechi replies, self-deprecating. "I was only invited because of a few minutes of fame, and one of my father's old associates wanted a little more attention."

"Oh," Haru says with sympathy glimmering in her eyes. It was so unlike the hard glare that she'd had when she declared that he deserved another chance, despite never giving her forgiveness. "Forgive me if this offends you, Akechi-kun, but is he…"

"Just using me?" Akechi smiles, Detective Prince face on. His Prince façade had been his wittiest, his most charming. Haru Okumura deserves no less. "You don't need to be so polite, Haru-san. I know what he's doing, and I was in no position to refuse."

Haru falls silent for a moment, her fluffy hair blowing backwards in the slight, bone-chilling breeze. "At least this meant that we could meet each other, Akechi-kun! Our discussion is so stimulating. I haven't met someone who knows so much about flowers before!"

Well, that was partially Akira's fault. As time has worn on, Akechi found that Akira had the annoying habit of typing in short phrases, sharing articles without context, and using stickers and emoticons to express emotions. Although he read every article and most of the time it leads to discussions that truly made Akechi feel amazed that they could share such a _normal_ connection (a fragile peace, knowing what he did of Akira's future, but unbearably precious), it also meant that he knew a lot more about plants that he ever intended.

"Only flowers, mostly," Akechi chuckles. "You have an amazing practical knowledge of plants that grow food."

"Don't deny your skills," Haru insists with a shake of the head. "I would be glad to talk to you more about plants, Akechi-kun. If you're ever invited to one of these functions again, will you be willing to talk with me further?"

"…You wish for my company, Haru-san?" Akechi raises an eyebrow. He'd hardly spoken to the soft-spoken girl even in the past. Haru wasn't the type to reach out with no reason, and Akechi had no reason to associate himself with the daughter of someone he'd murdered. It was simple logic to avoid such a troublesome connection.

"If-If you don't mind," Haru's high voice is hesitant, holding her hands in front of her chest as if not knowing what to do with them. "I rarely come by someone my own age who is interested in the same subjects as me."

Since he's started, he's undoubtedly going to continue coming to these events for a while. At least once a month, if he's guessing Shido's Palace schedule for himself.

The Haru Okumura in front of him is so young, yet very unchanged from the girl he knows from the past. Just a little more hesitant, a little more resigned and obedient.

And he cannot deny he is curious. Was this another chance gifted to him by fate? He doesn't doubt Haru Okumura existed in the parties he went to, hiding in corners when she wasn't required, a silent presence at her father's table to show off her availability. She would make a powerful friend in time.

Perhaps, a few amends.

"I would be glad to become friends with you, Haru-san," Akechi laughs. "Next time we meet, I will be glad to discuss more matters with you."

"Friends?" Haru replies with a little wonder. The word takes a moment to sink in before her replying smile is a large beam. "It's a promise, Akechi-kun!"

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Empress** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

He is unsurprised when he unfreezes from time. If Futaba Sakura had an Arcana, it's only logical to assume that the rest of the Phantom Thieves held equal potential.

"I'm looking forward to it, Haru-san," Akechi replies with just a sunny a smile.

  


* * *

  


By the end of January, Matsushita's holdings are in a mess when the company director falls into an unexplained coma.

His Palace had been unexpectedly beautiful. It was a series of underground caverns, jewels laced the walls, crystal stalagmites and stalactites grew from the ceiling and floors, and rainbow phosphorescent lights dotted the cavern, floated around. The Shadows there had been mostly animalistic – guard dogs, beast-men, animals of labour, all hunting for more treasures from the company's walls.

The lair itself had been designed as an intricate maze that took Akechi a week of effort to map out, filled with pitfalls and traps, a spiral path that leads upwards from the dark cavern he had started out in.

Matsushita himself was under a single ray of sunlight. Surrounded by rows and rows of Shadows, they all kneeled and worshipped the huge hoard of gold that the half-dragonised Matsushita sat. Scales glittered all along the Shadow's lithe body, a long tail slid contentedly over the gold, and Akechi had looked at the thin tip of Wakaba's needle.

Too delicate to pierce through such armour.

There is nothing for it. Akechi steps into the cavern, and before any of the worshipping Shadows can react, he pulls off Robin Hood's mask.

_"Megidolaon!"_

A huge sphere of energy builds right in the core of the whole Shadow army, growing into enormous size as it burns Shadows from within. There's a scream, and a whole shock of Shadows starts frantically running away, and Akechi runs straight forward through the crowd.

Megidolaon hits him as well, but the damage is something he can take as he sprints right through the burning light that feels _solid_ , as if one breath makes the light burn right through the cells of your lungs to kill you inside out. His hair is standing on end when he sprints right up to Matsushita's Shadow and jumps.

Claws grab him straight from the air, daggered fingers clenching over his torso before drawing him close to his face to growl, probably, something threatening.

Akechi plunges the syringe in his hand straight into his eye as deeply as he could reach and injects the whole vial.

Matsushita screams in pain, dropping Akechi to the ground as he thrashed in his pile of gold before he suddenly freezes. He collapses and causes a wave of coins and glittering jewels to spill all over his similarly fallen subordinates.

Escapes from comatose Palaces are easy matters – just a matter of time skirting around all the sleeping guards, and Akechi sends a message Shido that the deed was done.

During February, he texts Akira, helps Saito move her bags, visits Takaki in hospital and reports to a stressed Atsuzawa, and watches as Okumura Foods acquires a lucrative Kyoto deal while Matsushita's company had their stocks drop by ten percent. All of Akechi's informant assignments are Okumura's competitors, and the second Palace Akechi is assigned isn't Okumura after all – just a man who disagreed with Okumura's work health and safety policies who didn't even have a Palace.

Akechi uses the coma agent on the man in Mementos and lies that he had a Palace to Shido's face.

At the end of February, Akechi gives an extra sheet of paper to Atsuzawa to keep.

Kunikazu Okumura is officially added to the list of Shido's allies.

  


* * *

  


"See you again, Akechi-kun," Haru smiles as she brushes off her dress from the stairs they had been sitting on. "My father just texted me telling me that we're about to leave soon."

They avoid certain topics, Akechi found. Haru pretends her family and background don't exist, prompting Akechi to do the same. There is no 'Okumura Foods' or 'Detective Prince' being bandied around, despite both names trending a little higher than normal nowadays.

Shido's plants invited him on a few official cases outside the SIU he's affiliated with when Atsuzawa was called away to another precinct, and whenever Akechi provides genuine help, it's documented and sent away as proof of his continuing 'genius'. When he demurs, it's seen as a sign of him being humble. When he only provides a few of his ideas, it's blown out of proportion. Somehow, his popularity hasn't faded, despite refusing media attention. Okumura Foods were doing the same – acquiring business deal after business deal, successful expansion after expansion.

Both knew who the other was but ignored it.

"Thank you for your company, Haru-san," Akechi replies. "I look forward to your continued explanation of your gardening adventures. I can't believe you grew a whole string of pumpkins from your balcony. Can you show me more pictures next time?"

"Of course!" Haru exclaims, clapping her hands in delight. "If I can, I'll try to bring some for you to try, Akechi-kun. They might be a little misshapen though…"

Haru's voice dwindles a little, but Akechi shakes his head immediately.

"No-one is perfect on their first try, Haru-san," he says smoothly, voice encouraging. "And even so, I'm sure the vegetables you've grown with your best efforts will be worth trying."

Haru's smile is a small thing, always tinged with some apology in her eyebrows or the tilt of her smile. Akechi observes that it is the case no matter the subject, be it gardening, the happiest subject for her, or something less akin to her interests, like Akechi's pointed observations of the dancing crowd behind them, making her giggle guiltily. It is a smile that is always somewhat sad.

"See you next time, Akechi-kun," Haru truly leaves now, voice sweet and kind in a way Akechi rarely hears, and she slips away from their small balcony back into the fancily dressed crowd behind them.

Without her around Akechi sighs and drops the mask, blowing his hair back from his face.

He's found the keyword he needed, so there wasn't truly any reason to hang around.

It's when he's exiting the function centre when a woman that he didn't see, crouched around the wall, suddenly falls forward and grabs his arm.

"You, I recognise you," the woman says with wide eyes. "Please, I've seen you before," the woman clings to him. She's heavily pregnant, a bulging stomach round with a nearly grown baby and Akechi is trying to politely shake her off without harming her when she falls to her knees and clings to his leg even tighter. "He rarely met people at his apartment, so you must be important to him. Please, let me meet Masa-san. _Please."_

The face looking up at him is completely devoid of makeup and looks haggard and stressed. It's pretty enough, and vaguely familiar, but with 'Masa-san' coming out of her mouth he suddenly interposes another memory over her.

A maid in a scanty dress barely older than him, opening the door.

He'd stopped going to Shido's apartment soon after so he hadn't noticed that she had disappeared. Shido changed women often enough that Akechi had made a determined effort to put it out of his mind and not get distracted by the sheer _bitterness_ at seeing it.

Another quick glance downwards, and Akechi frowns. She looked like a woman in her third trimester.

"Please, please," the woman is pleading, kneeling on the floor as much as she can while her hands keep a vice grip on Akechi's ankle. They're definitely attracting attention now, and Akechi pulls her up.

"What's your name?" Akechi asks, and the woman flinches.

"Hinata," she replies after a second. "My name is Hinata Osumi. Will you help me meet Masa-san?"

"He left early, Osumi-san," Akechi replies with his kindest smile on, mask on thick. "And he will definitely disapprove of meeting you if you make such a big commotion, so please refrain. What is your relationship with him?"

Hinata leans heavily on his arm when she takes a few wobbling steps forward with him before she gathers her balance, bowing a little over her stomach as she cradles it. They are perhaps an odd pair as they walk down the upper-class district, Akechi in a perfectly tailored suit next to a heavily pregnant woman in a cheap, one-piece dress.

"He's the father of this child," Hinata replies, voice empty of emotion. It's a far cry from the sweet saccharine tones he vaguely remembers that she used when she opened the door, or when she was seducing Shido. "Masa-san promised to pay child support if I didn't speak out about our relationship, but he suddenly cut the money after I asked him for more. There was a price-hike at the apartment, I couldn't…"

There's a low desperation there in the trembling of her shoulders, and Akechi observes her quietly.

Shido is not a man who changes.

"Do you have lodging now?" Akechi asks, and the woman shakes her head.

"I have until tomorrow to leave the apartment. But Masa-san has sold the apartment I used to visit him in, and I heard rumours he was going to be at this party. But he's," and Hinata is choking down something – a sob, or maybe some other emotion. Akechi hopes it is rage or anger because those types of fires are harder to smother than something soft like sadness. "He's already left and now I have no other place I can go."

There's a despairing frustration in her voice.

A mother, and Shido's child.

Akechi cannot help but be reminded of the hunch in his own mother's back when they went to grocery stores. They would beeline for the older, cheaper vegetables in the side-crates. Living in a poorer neighbourhood, the sight might not be something uncommon, but there had been unkind acquaintances in the cheapest grocery in their block.

Snickers, and deep shame.

When Akechi went to his mother's funeral when he was eight years old, he realised his mother was twenty-nine.

That meant Shido had gotten to his mother when she was twenty-one. An age where many were still living their youth, still looking forward to a bright future. He hadn't been far from twenty-one himself before he died. He would have still been in university, still finishing his bachelors.

Old enough to be an adult. Young enough to know nothing.

"Wait a second, Osumi-san," Akechi says when they are far enough from the flow of people going in and out of the function centre. "I have a call to make."

He pulls out his phone and doesn't hesitate to call Saito's personal phone. She had insisted on him keeping it, and sometimes she asks him to help in carrying goods from the hospital and back. Saito isn't bad company, and he obliges as much as he can. In return, he has a small growing collection of teas on his second shelf, little metal boxes that he tries out, once in a while.

Saito picks up on the second ring.

_"Yes?"_

"Saito-san, this is Goro Akechi. My apologies for calling you so late in the evening."

_"It's nothing, Akechi-kun. You keep helping me with carrying those heavy bags, it's the least I can do to have a chat. Is there anything you need?"_

"I bumped into a lady who is in dire need of accommodation," Akechi says. "I was wondering if you knew any shelters that target young, pregnant women?"

_"Oh dear. How soon does she need it? Tonight?"_

"Tomorrow night."

 _"Tomorrow is quite doable,"_ Saito replies firmly. _"Though I do need her specific age before I know which institutes and organisations to recommend. May I have her name and age?"_

Akechi looks up from his phone and covers the receiver.

"Osumi-san, I have a friend who is a retired social worker. I'm currently asking her for recommendations for shelters that can accommodate you until you get back to your feet, but I need to provide your age and name. Is that alright?"

Hinata looks stunned that Akechi is helping her, her eyes wide. Her face is objectively pretty as well, just like his mother. She has the young and naïve look that Shido preferred, in the slant of her eyes, the smallness in her nose, and it takes her a few seconds for her to rapidly wipe her eyes before she looks up at Akechi with determination.

"Thank you for your help, Akechi-san. Please provide my name. I am Hinata Osumi, and I'm twenty-two."

When he relays that information to Saito, she asks him to wait for a moment. He hears Saito heaving herself up and the babble of a television fades in the background before the sound of paper rustling fills Akechi's ear.

_"Alright, can you pass the phone to her, Akechi-kun? This might be faster if I say it directly."_

Akechi nods and hands his phone over to Hinata. She's heavily pregnant, so he doubts she could take his phone and run away.

On the phone, the desperate hunch of Hinata's shoulders relaxes the more she talks to Saito before she's bowing and handing the phone back to Akechi.

"I don't know how to express my relief that I won't be homeless tomorrow," Hinata says, some of the whole aura of anger leeching out a little. "Saito-san agreed to let me have her phone number, and she's agreed to help me through any paperwork tomorrow to be accepted in a young women's shelter. Thank you, Akechi-san."

He's just helping the ghosts of his own past, being the helping hand that he wished his mother had.

The hand he had only just gotten, so recently.

"It's alright, Osumi-san," Akechi replies with a little bow of his own. "I helped because it's the right thing to do."

Hinata's returning smile is a little tired around the edges.

"That's a refreshing spirit to see," she replies, a little sad, before they both say another round of goodbyes and leave in different directions. Akechi's subway station is the opposite of Hinata's, and they leave with a perfunctory efficiency.

Akechi rides the subway, thinking.

Just a small moment.

 _"This was you when you were a baby, Goro,"_ his mother pointed to a photograph. A rare one, in a household nearly devoid of fond memories. He lost it during one of his moves, so even in his memories, the photograph he remembers is vague. Just a woman, cradling something with a tuft of hair in her arms. _"You were so small, and you liked me immediately."_

That younger Goro had waited for the words his mother sometimes said, but even during the rest of the evening where his mother reminisced, not once did she ever really say what he wanted to hear.

So he said it instead.

_"I love you, mama."_

His mother smiled at him, her face beautiful and worn and fading like an over-exposed photograph, and all she did was kiss his forehead before tucking him in.

_"Sleep well, Goro."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos, guys! Hehe, your relief over detective squad and Atsuzawa is so nice. This chapter features Haru, who I struggle to describe without copious use of the word 'fluffy' so the next few chapters will have more description than just dialogue okay ;__; Also a not-alone Christmas and New Years. And uh, yeah, the maid all the way from back then with Shido's horrid smirking.  
> And hehe. Someone caught me in the comments last chapter for a future confidant. Your speculations are amazing - some are really on point, some are close, some are so original I marvel and wish I could incorporate them haha. Thank you for telling me your thoughts! They make me really happy. 
> 
> Cloud on the Cloud drew fanart of my OCs for me. Thank you, Cloud! :D I'm really happy that you like the fic so much. ^^ I have the artistic skills of a baboon if he's drawing with his left foot, so thank you, your art is really cute! If you wish, please pop by :)  
> https://weibenwolken.tumblr.com/post/618094705163501568/fanarts-of-one-of-my-favorite-fics-marigold-by
> 
> By the way guys, I will take a small break next week from Marigolds. Not because of any serious reason, but because quarantine lifted a little in my country so my DnD group planned a meet up next Sunday and I'm DM so I have to write the next chapter of their adventure. I will be back the week after, the first of June. Somehow I feel a little sad to be disconnected from you guys, haha. Life is a little better for me (as much as I complain about my job I love that I have a job to complain about lol), but I know there are many who are still in hard times or are still in recovery.  
> Stay strong, everyone. The world is still spinning yet. ^^ I hope the chapter is ok, edit throughout the week, sorry for the long AN, see you guys later!


	22. Chapter 22

March marks the end of the school year, and Akechi begs a few days off early. The teachers are generally understanding when he provides them with a form that Atsuzawa had given him a stack of a few weeks back. They learn nothing in the last few days of school anyway, so it's with little care that Akechi goes to a nearby pharmacy for temporary hair dye, texting Atsuzawa to cover for him if anyone comes asking after him.

[Atsuzawa: A problem?]

[Akechi: No. Personal errand.]

Carefully applying the dye in his bathroom in casual clothing he rarely wears, he puts on black contacts just in case before transporting himself to the Metaverse to reappear near the train station, booking a Shinkansen ticket out of town.

It's a calm ride. The sun is a steady bright shine against the fields outside Tokyo, white clouds hardly barring the merry golden stretches that light the countryside until he reaches the next city. It doesn't even take that long – noon greets him when he steps off the Shinkansen onto the main Iwatodai train station, the city holding much less frenetic energy than Shibuya. Akechi puts on his face mask and pulls his cap low, before glancing around curiously. Familiar names pop out at him from small bites of memory.

There, on a slightly aged paper, was a drawing of the train network in the area. One of the tracks leads to an island, with clear lettering spelling 'Port Island Station'. Gekkoukan High is there, he knows, and there's a small temptation there to visit. See if the roof is as he remembers.

He turns away from it though, searching for a bus stop in the nearby station square instead.

Akechi did his homework beforehand, and he steps out to a mountain a little out of the way of the city. The sun's warmth overwhelms the refreshment a spring breeze teases in fleeting curls. Insects buzz alongside the random bird or two chirping merrily as he follows a small street upwards.

There's a florist, at the end of the road, right before the mountain truly starts. Using the useless knowledge Akira has shared with him, Akechi chooses a bouquet.

Violet chrysanthemums, bellflowers, a few white and yellow roses. The florist looks at the flowers he picked out with care and smiles.

"You must be giving this bouquet to a wonderful friend," she says with a sweet, gentle look. It's sympathetic, and Akechi huffs a small laugh.

"He truly is," Akechi replies. The florist takes extra care to arrange them beautifully before handing them back to him, and he cradles the bouquet in his arm as he climbs the mountain. At first, there's nothing but the drone of insects and the faint whistle of wind that surround the road. Stacked stones rising above the road tower above him on his left, the right showing a growing vista of a glittering sea as the road continues to up around the mountain.

Soon, the stones give way to an iron-barred fence that allows glimpses of the aged tombstones on the other side, moss and erosion covering their names as Akechi continues walking up. Sweat is beading his forehead when he finally arrives at the entrance of Iwatodai Cemetery. It's nothing special – it's not especially solemn nor foreboding, the gates were thrown wide open with an empty security box on the side.

Akechi walks inside and respects the muted silence. Hundreds of tombstones stretch before him, curved away, hidden by walls or hills or trees. There are a few people here and there in the cemetery as he passes through the years, from 2014 to 2012. From 2012 to 2009. They stand around tombs or sweep them, usually milling around with faint smiles. Akechi politely sidesteps a family huddled together watching a little girl sing a happy song to a gravestone, applauding when she's done. All the visitors don't look at each other, as if there was some unspoken etiquette to not pry into another's grief and reminiscence.

It takes a while to find – there are so many graves, so many names – but Akechi soon stops in front of a large, well-kept tomb. There's a carefully framed photo on top of the white marble, of a boy with a slight smile on his face staring out of the camera. His blue hair drops over one eye, a flavour of humanity that Akechi has never seen framing the softness of his cheeks, the slight slouch to his shoulders.

In the Sea of Souls, Minato's presence had always been something more. Something near Godly, despite his friendliness.

In this photograph, he's just another normal boy.

Surrounding the tomb is a plethora of things left behind. There're multitudes of flowers, a colourful burst of bouquets propped carefully around the area. Remnants of a gathering are speckled around the tomb, colourful bits and pieces obviously recent, and Akechi laughs as he puts down his fresh bouquet next to the others.

"And here you were, wondering if they missed you," he says fondly, pulling his face mask down to his chin to smile back at his friend. The bond in his mind hums, a thing ever warm in his mind. If Kirijo's actions with Wakaba hadn't proved it already, the sight here is irrevocable proof. "They obviously do, Minato. You aren't forgotten."

Silence settles as Akechi lowers himself to sit in front of Minato's grave, one leg straight, one leg bent. His feet tentatively brush against an older bouquet, bursting with primroses. There's absolutely no-one around. The closest person is five rows away, praying, and something in Akechi that's always wound tight subconsciously relaxes.

"Sorry I'm late," he says to the stone. "It's March the fourth. I didn't want to risk bumping into your friends."

 _It's alright_ , Minato would probably say, face uncaring of his faux pas. _I'm glad you came to visit me_.

"Although it's stupid to come here in person, I wanted to thank you," Akechi says, breathing in the air. In the distance, there's a spot of pink where he sees some sakura trees blooming. "I've been trying my best with this second chance. I don't know if I'm saving the world or not… but I've changed what I could since you sent me here."

The next question is stuck in his throat. Minato cocks his head to the side at that, his very silence an expectation.

Akechi allows himself to think a little slowly, gathering his thoughts into a careful bundle before presenting them.

"Did you see this when you sent me back here, Minato?" Akechi wonders, his question a delicate gossamer thing that floats nowhere, leaning back on his hands to look up to track a roving white cloud. Large and white. Voluminous, as it floats slowly towards the west. "Is this why you believed in me?"

Only the sea breeze answers that question.

His mind refuses to plant an answer into Minato's image, and Akechi chuckles.

"That's alright," Akechi muses. "Did you know I found a café that plays the artists you like on weekdays? Their coffee is decent too," he adds, "though I don't know if you like coffee or not, I think you'll still like it. I'll bring you there someday."

Minato smiles from the photograph, frozen in a moment of forever contentment. Akechi leans forward, hugging his knee. "I've also met a lot of people. New people, that I never knew before. They're… I'm trying, Minato," Akechi says, voice slow. "The world isn't beautiful yet, but I can see how it can be"

_I'm glad for you, Goro._

"Of course you'll say that," Akechi murmurs, feeling a wave of sleepiness wash over him from the warmth. "Which reminds me, I wished to thank you for the warning. Are you watching over me?"

_Perhaps._

"That's good enough," Akechi replies with a small laugh half smeared into his sleeve, cheek pressed to the wool. Somehow Minato feels stronger here, a nostalgic voice ringing in his head. It is irrational, but he feels safe in front of this monument to his friend, and his eyes can't help but close.

In the darkness is a sea of stars. At his feet a galaxy. At his side is a myth turned friend, who stretches a hand to him that never truly reaches.

_Rest. It's safe here._

Ridiculous, Akechi tries to reply through drowsiness. It's right in the open, a graveyard at that—

A smile.

He falls asleep with the sun a warm cloak on his shoulders.

He rouses a few hours later with a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Sir, it's going to be a little chillier soon… Oh hey, you look around my age! Did you know Minato-san as well?"

Akechi blinks his eyes open, a little gritty and irritated against his contacts as he looks up at another boy who stands in front of him, a calm smile on their face. He's in the same Gekkoukan uniform that Akechi saw on Minato, crisp and clean, and he does look around his own age. His brown hair is cut short, but not trimmed enough to stop it from sticking out in vague sweeps, and Akechi's mind is already whirring as he rolls himself up onto his feet, stretching out the kinks.

"I'm Ken Amada, nice to meet you. What's your name?"

"Akira Sakura," Akechi replies with the first name that pops up in his mind, responding with his own bow. "Nice to meet you, Amada-san."

"No, it's always nice to meet anyone who is a friend of Minato-san," Ken shakes his head, bowing to Minato's portrait on to tombstone before bending down and cleaning up a few dead flowers, and any debris that he could see. "I'm sure he enjoyed the company, especially from an old friend."

Ken's has a face seems to be accustomed to seriousness even when he stands back up with a plastic bag full of rubbish. "I'm here to clean up after ourselves yesterday. Sorry you had to see the mess," he shrugs a little sheepishly, "we had lunch here yesterday, and the group just pushed cleaning duties to me because I live close."

"It's fine," Akechi shakes his head as he finds himself walking down to the entrance with the first of Minato's friends he's ever seen. He knows enough to control himself – he's affected a few Akira's mannerisms, walking a little more casually, adopting a small tinge of a countryside accent while watching Ken from the corner of his eye. All he knows of Ken Amada is his possibility of being Minato's Justice Arcana, an intelligent child who had joined SEES for much darker reasons than first surmised. His revenge against Shinjiro for his mother's death had succeeded, even though it didn't bring the catharsis that he thought it would have.

However, Ken Amada had forcibly drawn himself together at the age of ten, and from then on supported SEES as much as he possibly could. It is an impressive resume in comparison to Akechi. When he'd been ten, he was still struggling to identify who his father was, let alone complete any form of revenge.

If he were more familiar, he could ask, as they share a companionable silence down the pathways out the graveyard. What does Ken think on revenge now? Ken Amada does not look like the ten-year-old sketched in Minato's halting words, pretending to be the adult that he knows he's not. They should both be in the first year of high school, and instead of a determined precociousness, Ken Amada is a boy grown slightly taller than him and walks with the grace of an athlete. There's a light, easy confidence about him that makes Akechi instantly peg him as the popular kind.

"How did you know Minato-san?" Ken asks amiably, and Akechi draws his cap down lower.

"Used to stay in Iwatodai," Akechi replies, slouching like the teenagers he sees skulking around the outskirts of Akihabara. "Minato used to visit the park I went to a lot and talk to me for some reason. He helped me with a few things, and we became friends."

Ken smiles with a spark of joy.

"That sounds like Minato-san. He loved walking around talking to anybody he can find," Ken says fondly. "He helped me a lot too, you know."

"Yeah?" Akechi asks, genuinely curious.

"Minato-san never talked much, but he was the sort of guy you'd always know would be there for you if you'd asked. He was a great guy, you know? The awesome kind of person I'd like to be one day." Ken interrupts himself as he glances down at his watch, eyes widening. "Aw, crap. We'll need to rush if we want to catch the next bus down, Sakura-san."

They both jog down the mountain, neither of them breathless when they run into the bus. Ken thanks the bus driver familiarly while Akechi counts the change for a single trip ticket. It's strange though, Akechi narrows his eyes over his face mask, that Ken is so determined to make conversation with him.

"Are you sure you're not hot underneath that mask?" Ken is asking, eyes filled with concern. Akechi leans backwards, closer to the window and nods.

"I was sick recently, so I'd rather not infect people."

There is nothing false about the way Ken continues conversation though, his chatter having delved into soccer. He's part of the school team, Ken says with a flash of cockiness before he promptly trips on the stairs off the bus and nearly falls straight on top of Akechi's head when they're both exiting to the station square. Only quick reflexes and Akechi's strong grip holding Ken's shoulder keeps him falling head-first onto concrete, and Ken quickly recovers.

"I'm not usually this clumsy, I promise!" He says in a fluster, and Akechi can't help but wish he imagined the speculative glint in Ken's face when he lets go. "Hope you're okay?"

"My train arrives soon," Akechi replies instead, giving Ken a shrug. He refrains from bowing, and he thickens his accent. "Nice meeting you, Amada."

"You too," Ken waves as he leaves. He watches the back of the teenager in front of him leave, head tilted before he fetches his phone from his pocket. "Hi to you too, Mitsuru-senpai. Yeah, I mean, I promised that I'd visit Minato's grave for the rest of the week but I didn't really expect… Huh? He looks like a boy my age actually. Black hair, I couldn't see his face clearly. I'll send the photo over sure, it's just a profile shot though."

Ken hums in reply as he re-enters the bus that he just left, nodding to the bus driver who raises an amused eyebrow at him.

"He's really strong, Mitsuru-senpai. Uncannily. I'm not a light guy, but he stopped me toppling headfirst from the bus with one arm, and he's not built large like Akihiko-senpai. He doesn't seem like a bad guy though… Yup, start tracking it now! I don't think he noticed. Don't worry, I'll keep visiting Minato-san for the rest of the week just in case. Koromaru is fine, he ate a little too much yesterday so he was being lazy this morning… Take care as well. It was nice to see you!"

Ken shuts the call and slumps in his seat as the bus trundles closer to the apartment that he shared with Koromaru.

Mitsuru's hiding things from him again, though it isn't as if he didn't understand why. It's not as much age-related as the fact that he's still only a reserve member of the Shadow Operatives. Mitsuru had even admitted yesterday over a team dinner, eyebrows knitted in a rare expression of seriousness, that it's a lead that she doesn't know will bear fruit or not. But there's hope, and they're trying to grasp any straws they could find.

One of them was asking Ken to visit Minato's grave, and Ken's been doing that for the past two weeks and was going to do it for a week more.

Mitsuru's 'hunch' had borne fruit for the first time today, with the exact profile that Mitsuru had briefly described.

"Koromaru! You ready for your walk yet, or are you still sulking?" Ken calls out into his apartment as he unlocks it, and happy barks greet him when he opens the door. Koromaru's curled tail wags quickly when Ken bends down and scratches the thick silver fur on his forehead. It's a quick job to change and head to a nearby park so that Koromaru could stretch his legs.

"Koromaru, what do you think about joining the Shadow Operatives again?" Ken asks his partner after an exhilarating run down the whole length of the park. Koromaru tilts his head, intelligent eyes telling Ken he's listening. "Maybe when Akihiko-senpai comes back?"

"Woof!"

"I know it's a little earlier than expected," Ken says, giving Koromaru's chin a scratch right underneath the fluff. "But I got a feeling that something strange is brewing."

"Woof!"

"Thanks, Koromaru," Ken laughs through Koromaru's affectionate head butt. "You're the best!"

  


* * *

  


On the shinkansen, Akechi holds up a small tracker up to his eye. It's a small circular button that stuck surprisingly well to the back of his coat. There're no manufacturing details on it, smooth and round when he rolls it in his fingers.

How interesting. Were they so desperate in their attempts to find him?

Akechi digs out a round pencil from his bag and it drops onto the floor, letting it roll away. Reaching down in a fluster to grab it, he bypasses another passenger's coat, muttering an apology when he brushes against it when the owner glances over. As he gets up, he slips the small tracker into the coat's pocket before sitting straight and looking out the window.

Perhaps it wouldn't be an entirely bad idea to contact Minato's friends for more support.

But, he thinks as he squints against the sun, not yet.

Akechi has long learnt that approaching a deal with vague presumptions of what he needs and what the other wants are a horrible idea. No matter how friendly Minato's friends may be, he's at least sure that Mitsuru Kirijo holds vast amounts of power and resources. Yukari Takeba is a minor celebrity, being the live-action actor for Featherman Victory, and Akihiko Sanada was a detective before leaving the country. They have all become adults with their own areas of expertise, and Akechi's trust only stretches so far.

Wakaba would laugh and call him paranoid, probably.

But no. He will only reach out once he has a clearer vision of what he wants, what he can take without indebting himself as he had once done with Shido.

  


* * *

  


He'd planned on stocking up on Wakaba's supplies during the school holidays because walking around the streets had started to become awkward. Girls were recognising him now, whispering when they caught sight of his face, and it wasn't as if he could hike up a scarf further up his face now that winter was over.

Akechi's finding himself more than happy just to stay around the dorm now, walking around nearby parks filled with locals that recognise him because of Saito. Elderly store owners cluck and smile at him, and the words 'Detective Prince' don't sound so invasive when it's through a gummy smile alongside an offered treat. Since nothing much had happened during this period in his last life, he had been cautiously optimistic that nothing would be happening in this life as well.

This small hope is dashed when he realises he's spending more and more time on Shido's expenses.

It's not anything, at first. Shido never violates the terms of their contract of one Palace a month, one informant a week.

It's just… time. Time with an associate there. Dinner with another group of people. Chats with wives, businessmen, entertainers, celebrities, on topics both mundane and edging on illegal on the excuse of keywords, or networking or being given rewards that Akechi doesn't know how to refuse without breaking persona.

The volume of his investigations suddenly billow as Akechi keeps meeting more and more people. He's sending Atsuzawa information on pyramid schemes, fake seed funds, illegal stock manipulations through collusions, and the more he scratches the surface the more he wears Atsuzawa's pin in a hidden seam of his shirt as a reminder that he hasn't sunk, he isn't drowning, not yet.

There are cameras around, Akechi knows. They have taken pictures of him being with these people, talking what they do. It's a collective threat that everyone accepts because Shido has shown one thing – and it's the promise of no retribution if you don't turn on him first. It's the metaphorical shark behind Shido's sharp smile, as he allows Akechi to attend in his place as a show of _trust_.

It's not trust, Akechi thinks as he stares up at the SIU Director for the first time in this life, officially introduced under Shido's name. The Director is a balding man, smile smug and conspiratorial when they meet.

"You too?" The Director says with faux surprise before his face slides into a conceit. "I can't believe that someone under Atsuzawa's unit works under Shido," he laughs in a way that makes his extra chins prominent, shoulders shaking underneath his suit. "No wonder Shido is so unafraid of him; he's already had our best investigator collared!"

"Yes," Akechi dips his head. He forcibly relaxes his fingers from an angry clench. "Shido-san has always been long-sighted in these matters, it's of no surprise."

"Tell Shido that I am as impressed as always at how he's always furthering his ambitions," the SIU Director says to him, his voice gaining a toadying tone. Akechi feels so much _disgust_ , that this man instead of someone like Atsuzawa could climb into the seat of something so irrevocably powerful. Every interaction leaves an acrid taste in his mouth, and it feels numb talking to him sometimes, any reminder of the goodness he feels when he snarked with Wakaba, when he's following behind Atsuzawa's tall back distant and cold.

The SIU Director laughs about how he's redirected resources of key departments, how some of that money has been syphoned away for Shido's cause – with a bit of payment for himself, of course, for the effort – and asks Akechi if he has any _opinions._

Akechi doesn't know what's happened to him that he can't find the exact brand of apathy that he had before, at all these people who are not Shido. He didn't use to care before, whether the SIU Director was letting a case file sink into the depths of bureaucracy, letting a poor family lose a sure-win case and bear the burden of the horrifyingly high lawyer costs that they'd risked for the sake of their crippled father. He didn't use to see humans when Shido shoved him a list of names, numbers, money, victims.

Atsuzawa carefully caters plans to catch at least some of them. He only arrests those that he can find a solid trail of evidence on. He double-checks everything with Akechi just in case, concern furrowing his brow.

"Relax, kiddo," he tries. They visit Takaki, they chat with Naho. Police Headquarters is filling with more of Shido and the Director's plants, so Akechi sometimes sits in Atsuzawa's apartment that smells like too many old books, Momo curling in his lap while sipping a cup of mediocre coffee. With peach fur tickling his chin and affectionate claws hooking random threads from his expensive sweaters, Akechi can sometimes, sometimes breathe. Both Atsuzawa and Akechi are terrible cooks, so they eat instant noodles whenever Akechi finds enough time to stay over, and sometimes Atsuzawa even listens through a semi-serious explanation on the logistics of Featherman Armour, face twisted in bemused confusion.

Then he's called to Shido, and there's another party, another cheque, and Shido's paved the way so that there is no reason Akechi can refuse.

Even watching Shido's frustration at some of his plans skewing wrong is not enough as the months go on and he's forced to face just how disgusting _he_ had been, in his past life, playing the dancing, uncaring puppet. It's overwhelming and dizzying, a sharp plunge upwards into a world where going out on the street meant girls and attention and cameras and going home meant facing lists of trivial tasks for Shido.

It impresses him, he knows. High society isn't accepting, in general, to upstart quick celebrity statuses like his, but he's managed to wile his way into a form of pleasant entertainment. A pretty face, spouting prettier words. His worth is transforming under Shido's eyes.

"You are a surprise," Shido had told him, eyes intent behind his tinted glasses. "I won't lie when I say that you've surpassed all of my expectations," Shido continues as he looks down at his business tablet. He's presumably looking at the information Akechi has managed to accumulate.

People, networks. The weaknesses of prominent figures, what would entice them most. Who didn't like Shido's growing campaign. A total of five prominent people have become comatose, and Shido's circle have all started buzzing that all five were related to Shido.

He will want to monetise it soon. Akechi is trying to distract him from it with pointed arrests that clinch a little deeply into his circle, but that causes the attention to draw to Atsuzawa instead.

"When you first came here you were so uncertain," Shido muses. "Do you remember? It's already been more than half a year. And now you can extract the next probable investment that Tojoko Corp is going to do in less than half an hour. You're truly impressive, Akechi."

It's high praise. It's more than high praise from a man who prefers to snap at his subordinates than give positive reinforcement.

They're standing in a nondescript private area at the back of a conference venue, swathed in provided privacy for business meetings and otherwise. There are classy refreshments and comfortable couches upholstered in leather that would cost years of a normal salary. The elegance and bourgeois air lies thick in the air they breathe, and Akechi had once dreamed of this. Shido's recognition. Riches he's been denied.

He doesn't save the image of this opulence in his heart as a goal anymore. There is something bitter in the back of his throat that prevents him from doing so.

"You even resolved the conflict between Sato and Nakamura without escalating the issue," Shido says speculatively, and Akechi shakes his head.

"It was nothing, Shido-san." Akechi replies pleasantly. "It was just a petty misunderstanding that was easily resolved."

Shido raises an eyebrow, and Akechi thinks he's reading wrong because there's a sense of _anticipation_ in there that he isn't accustomed to feeling. He buries a shiver.

"Chuzo told me you've made all the connections I've asked of you already," Shido says, still thoughtful. "Because of you, we've been able to accelerate some of the plans I have. If you continue to progress this way, perhaps one day you can even enter an event by my side."

A smirk. Akechi clenches his hands behind his back.

"That would be an honour, Shido-san."

"I look forward to what other skills I can unearth from you, Akechi," Shido says as he leaves in the rustle of an expensive suit, and something dark in his mind shifts.

**Devil Rank 3 – Masayoshi Shido**

  


* * *

  


The only positive in any of this is when he sees Haru on a guest list.

Their infrequent meetings are unexpectedly pleasant. He had known Haru Okumura is a kind person, but that had been a peripheral acknowledgement. It's only after he's become her friend that he sees why he's never been her acquaintance in the past. Haru's presence is swallowed by the people around her. A quiet shadow next to her father, a silent figure around her peers. She's pretty, but not flamboyantly so, and dislikes the attention her looks brings. 

Haru looks excited when they successfully meet, face stretched into an excited smile when she secretly takes out a small box from her purse.

"Here you go, Akechi-kun!" Haru says excitedly, placing the box gently in between them. "My very first batch of capsicums! I've sliced them raw to bring them here, I hope you don't mind. Please tell me what you think, as honestly as possible."

Corporate dinners never filled him up, so it's with little difficulty that Akechi takes a slice and tries eating it.

His eyes immediately start to water, and it's only years and years of self-control that stops him from grimacing at the sheer bitterness that explodes in his mouth from the juices and crawls all the way up to his sinuses. How is this capsicum so damn bitter?

"It's," Akechi coughs a little. Breathes a little fresh air. "A little bitter, Haru-san."

"Oh," Haru droops, her excitement fading into sheepish disappointment. "I see. I admit, I tried some myself on the way here and did feel that they tasted a little strong, but I hoped it was still palatable."

Akechi sips from the glass of water he'd brought to the balcony with him, and it manages to spreads the taste. He will not cough. If he can stand smiling at Shido's goons for four hours, he can smile for a girl he hopes will become his friend.

A muscle in his cheek twitches as he turns his smile to Haru.

"It is certainly refreshing though," Akechi admits, adjusting his posture so that it's a little more informal and agreeable. "I've been stressed with a lot of work recently, and that one slice woke me right up."

"I did take the seeds from an experimental lab in Okumura Foods," Haru admits as she takes a slice herself and eats it without a flinch. "Perhaps that's the intended effect of it? But it does seem like I need to first reduce the astringency…"

Her smile is bright when she turns to him.

"Thank you for tasting it, Akechi-kun! I promise the next batch will be sweeter."

"I… look forward to it, Haru-san," Akechi says with his gentlest smile, and Haru falls for it. Her own smile relaxes, and there's a bit of contentment as they spin into different topics. Novels, this week. From the topic of Femme Fatales comes a surprisingly rousing debate that delves into the topic of purity and corruption dichotomy in women's literature.

Haru is well-read, literature being one of her stronger subjects in school. When school starts, she even begins to shyly sketch out a few of her compositions between them after Akechi admitted his honour student status.

That's not to deny that there are some times where one of the two are obviously in a worse mood than usual. Akechi has them more and more often under Haru's sympathetic eye, where he's clenching and reclenching his hands for something to do as he tries to feel something other than numb apathy. Haru has intense quiet episodes as well, that Akechi can do nothing about except sit next to her in the gardens or whatever greenery she can find.

It is May when she chooses to share, hesitantly, on her thoughts. Springtime brings unidentifiable scents of sweet flowers to where they stand at a small, nondescript balcony used more to let in the fresh air than for guests to stand around.

Akechi is having a better day than usual – he's finished his tasks and evaded most of Shido's goons with energy to spare – and perhaps it's because of this that Haru cracks.

"It's merely the fact that this is the first time this week I've been able to eat dinner with my father," Haru says quietly, looking down at her hands clasped in front of her. "He didn't even look at me really, except praising me when someone asked me what year of school I was in. I feel like he's slowly slipping away from me."

The revolving masses behind them are still the same – a distant, constant low roar of many striking out benefits, talking of value, amounting lives and salaries and resources with a simple shift of a phrase, a smile and a solid handshake. There were a few of the younger generation like him and Haru invited, to demonstrate familial solidarity, for exposure, or for the sheer networking opportunities. As a person pulled in because of his minor celebrity status from the police force, he knows he's a novelty at best – a few talks and laughs are all he amounts to, and he makes the most of it.

Haru is the only daughter of a major growing conglomerate, but he always finds her alone.

"Do you dislike it, Haru-san?" Akechi tilts his head back at the shark tank behind them, the rules and smiles and promises.

"Oh no," Haru shakes her head, hair flying out in a gentle puff. "I would never take the life I live now for granted. We weren't always rich, so I really do understand the sacrifices my father is making to provide so much for me. I'm," she says now, her smile still holding that slightly sad tilt, "just silly, I suppose."

Akechi waits patiently beside her, and she lets out a long, shaky breath. Before the moment truly slips away, Akechi prompts. "What do you mean by silly, Haru-san?"

"It's nothing," Haru tries to deflect before she hesitates again when they both glimpse her father past the crowd, laughing at a table of other suits with his cheeks slightly red from wine. Then she deflates because they both know that Kunikazu hasn't even noticed that his daughter has slipped away. "It should be nothing, seeing how hard my father works. I'm ready to do my part too, so it's not that. I guess I just selfishly wish that my father…"

"Your father is still there for you?" Akechi finishes for her, because she's honestly struggling, and Haru flinches a little at his statement before nodding.

"Yes. I know why that's impossible, so isn't it silly?" She tilts her head to smile up at him, and Akechi twists his own smile into something sympathetic.

Too gentle of a person, Akechi allows himself to think. It's not an archetype he hasn't met before, though it is rare. Haru is kind to the point of self-effacement but independent enough to try tackle her demons alone. That same kindness makes the difficulties of others hold higher importance to those of her own. Anything she is struggling with must surely be, in her judgement, her own weakness.

This road of independence stems from insecurity and does no-one favours. It's a self-defeating road that has grown into the route she is taking now in quiet acceptance. It's a road that others may label as 'mature' and 'self-sacrificing'.

All Akechi sees is resignation.

A smiling girl always on the edges of any party, looking out into a gilded future lined up for her and bound to it by her love and sense of duty to her father. A father, Akechi notes, who ultimately betrays that devotion.

He sees why Haru Okumura will be able to join Akira's band of Phantom Thieves.

"Hey, Akechi-kun," Haru says, burying her chin into her arms as she leans forwards onto the balcony. Her large brown eyes look up at the dark night sky, the light ambience swallowing the stars. Music echoes past them, a song she once mentioned she liked in passing, and Haru smiles wistfully. "What would you do if you were me?"

"If I had a person I cared about slowly leave me?" Akechi asks, and Haru nods, tilting her head so that her cheek rests on the delicate embroidery on her sleeves. Akechi hums before he lets a sliver of his real smile slip through. His eyes narrow gently. "If I understand their reasons, I'll examine if I care enough to stop them. If I don't, I'll just let them go. I don't understand why I have to waste hurt on something I can clearly turn mutual."

Haru blinks at him in surprise, straightening up a little as her eyes now trained on him as Akechi continues.

"If I understand their reasons and I care enough not to let them go," Akechi says, smile a little sharp, "I'll remind them why we had a relationship in the first place, and help them re-examine their reasons so that they align with mine. There is rarely only one solution to a matter," he says to Haru, "and I don't think myself unintelligent enough not to be able to find a way to at least prolong the situation until I find a better answer."

He lets that statement rest a little before he laughs gently at her wide eyes and faces the night sky himself.

"And if I ever found someone that I'd cling to even if they insist on leaving me…" He trails off as his mother flashed into his mind. The years and years of anger and hurt he'd dedicated to her. "I've never met someone like that, so I don't know what I'd do," he says with a smile.

Haru has sat back up, not minding her expensive dress crinkling as she twists in her seat to face Akechi fully.

"Akechi-kun, that was a little different to how you usually speak," Haru says, and Akechi laughs again.

"I'm sorry for showing my true colours, Haru-san."

"Oh no," she says with a growing smile, demeanour somehow sweet despite the humour in her eyes. "I appreciate the edge of honesty in your words, Akechi-kun. As you know, the people around me rarely tell me their honest thoughts… And if those were your true colours, I don't dislike it."

Haru smooths the crinkles in her dress, and her smile never fades when she continues. "In fact, I think I may even be a little jealous. You're very strong, Akechi-kun."

"In my eyes, you're quite strong yourself," Akechi replies, and Haru's smile and the slight melancholic tilt in it doesn't falter.

"Am I?" She asks, before her phone buzzes and she looks at it. "Oh, it's time for me to leave again. Akechi-kun, thank you for today. I truly mean it," she insists as she draws herself up, pulling on her shawl and bowing to him. "These days I find myself often looking through guest lists wondering if you'll be there."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Akechi readily replies, and rises to his feet as well. "See you again, Haru-san."

Haru laughs, a high airy thing.

"I look forward to it, Akechi-kun!"

**Empress Rank 2 - Haru Okumura**

  


* * *

  


Akechi sits in one of the guest chairs on Good Morning Japan behind a screen, colourful neon backgrounds and roving cameras ready for action a tizzy of controlled chaos. An unfortunate spotlight shines straight right at his face momentarily blinding him. He doesn't flinch though his eyes do water, and he's wondering _how is this his life again?_

The director nods encouragingly at Akechi from the side, but that isn't what he's concerned about.

He hadn't met Director Yoshizawa or appeared on Good Morning Japan until there'd been a significant amount of mental breakdowns finished. Currently, there were only seven people he'd sent into a coma. Each had been high profile in their own way and had drawn significant attention individually. But not enough for _this_.

"Today we have a special episode! Yes, we're bringing back our special guest panel, where we invite three famous names from three different industries that have been popping up in the news lately. We absolutely know _everyone_ wants to know a little bit more of the three we've invited today. Does anyone have any guesses who is behind each of these three screens?"

Enthusiastic answers are read out from both social media and the attending crowd in front of them by the energetic hosts, a man and woman pair who have always been polite enough to Akechi.

"We'll reveal our very first one! Yes, it's the rising music star… Hayate Misono! From a piano prodigy to writing hit after hit, Misono-san won the title of Best Album on Top 100 Chart's 2014 Awards and is now on our show to tell us more about his newest top single, _The Sun's Iris!"_

There's a rising cheer as someone is revealed. The voice that replies to the host's questions is surprisingly youthful, awkward enough in an endearing way.

"Alright, our next guest is someone that has kept himself away from the spotlight despite standing out in recent months for his natural talent and genius. First finding fame in trying to rescue a fellow officer, he's gone on to solve case after case that the public cannot help but be stunned every week. Please welcome… Goro Akechi!"

The screen in front of him rises, and he's suddenly smiling at the small crowd in front of him, sitting the studio's elevated seats. The cheers don't dim when he's revealed – in fact, there's a lot of people who look excited to see him there.

"Hello, it's an honour to be here," Akechi immediately bows politely, and the hosts tut fondly.

"No need to be so polite, Akechi-kun!" The woman smiles, her bright teeth shining from her face when she turns to him. "We're so glad you agreed to our invitation to come onto our show. No-one has managed to nab you for a solid interview or media appearance yet, so we're the ones honoured to see you."

"Your first time on TV, isn't it?" The male host cuts in with a laugh. "How're you feeling?"

"Quite nervous, actually," Akechi laughs like he was taught. There's nothing unflattering in how the laugh creases his face as he instinctively turns his profile towards the camera. "I'm not quite used to having so much attention on myself, so I can only hope I'm not too boring."

"Relax, Akechi-kun," the female host smiles. "I'm sure you'll do just fine! Now, for our third guest – child actress turned media all-star, a woman that has all the critics talking with her latest film _Sweet Summer's Ending_ … Please welcome Rise Kujikawa!"

"Hey, everyone!" A cheerful woman that even Akechi recognises waves from the third couch, her beaming smile eliciting the biggest cheer yet. She waves at the crowd cheerfully before sending a wink and a flying kiss, and some of her fans mime catching it. "I'm so glad to be here again!"

"And we're glad to have you, Risette!" The male host continues. "It's been a while since we've had you on show. Wasn't the last time when you put out your hit album _Loveless?_ "

"Yup! I remember you telling me you're quite a fan of mine too, aren't you?" Rise giggles and the conversation goes from there. All three of them are drawn into a conversation about trivial questions like what their favourite colour is, and what type of person they liked. Misono is a surprisingly demure young man, black hair in a neat cut that frames his face, white hands placed neatly on his knees as he answers questions sincerely.

Risette is on the totally opposite side of the spectrum. She's channelling energy like only a pop idol can, throwing in crowd participation when she answers, bubbling with answers when a question is directed at her. She's obviously an expert at handling the crowd – she merely has to change her tone for the whole studio to fall silent and listen to her. It's quite amazing to watch a superstar in action.

Akechi has never been as demure as Misono, and the thought of him doing any of Risette's pop idol moves makes him want to burst into laughter.

He doesn't default to his previous Detective Prince persona. It was something he'd decided early, mainly because being the perfect Prince had a whole slog of rules that Akechi can't be bothered to uphold.

So he crafts this second mask carefully. A serious person, he thinks, with a quirky sense of humour.

"If you're asking me who I like," Akechi replies with a slightly more serious air than before, "then I'd say I like a person who has a sense of humour. And perhaps likes horror movies."

"Horror movies?" The lady host leans forward with exaggerated intrigue. "That's oddly specific, Akechi-kun!"

"I am a detective, after all," Akechi smiles with a wry twist. "What if I bring a case back home filled with pictures of a crime scene to someone who can't handle that sort of thing? Wouldn't they immediately break up with me?"

"Of course not, Akechi-kun!" Risette grins. "They'd stay for your good looks! I wonder if that's a recurring thing with Detective Princes? Naoto is also really handsome."

"Risette, does that mean you approve of Akechi's looks?" One of the hosts cut in, and Risette raises a hand to her face, batting her lashes jokingly before putting it down.

"Akechi-kun looks great, but I prefer my men older than me," she replies. "What about you, Misono-kun?"

"I've never dated, so I don't know," Misono replies simply, leaning close to his mic. "But I believe I'll know what I like when I start liking someone, Rise-san."

Their dynamic works surprisingly well, something that's easy to spot through the host's behaviours. Akechi has sat through much worse ones, where he's sitting in an interview with an avid Phantom Thief supporter, for example, and the hosts are struggling to curb the aggression while still keeping the show entertaining. Here the hosts are relaxed as they guide them to the topics they want. There's a familiar thrill every time the crowd laughs at one of his jokes, when they applaud whenever he speaks.

It's an electric energy when he sees the crowd all _looking_ at him. All admiring him. All envious, when Risette gives each of them a goodbye kiss on the cheek. It curls around him like a familiar ghost even as he tries to distract himself from it.

The show ends with everyone happy – the crowd feeds off the energy, clapping a few moments more than required before everyone starts filing out the doors at the direction of the assistants. There are only a few people who are left, and Rise's not nearly off the set before her phone rings.

She looks at the caller before sighing loudly, waving her assistant away before walking to an unobtrusive corner that's… not that far away from anyone, really, since the set isn't that large.

"Yosuke-senpai, why are we changing the schedule? Didn't we all agree to pick up Senpai from Tokyo University because he'll get side-tracked by cats again? We're scoping Kanda today…"

There's a pause, before a gasp of surprise.

"Wait, Nanako-chan's visiting today? Why didn't anyone tell me?! Of course, we can go to Destinyland, we can just say we're changing where we're investigating, that's all. We can tell that Alibaba guy we'll check out Kanda another day…"

She's walking off towards the back of the set, voice fading. "Wow, a day with Senpai at Destinyland! Is this a dream come true?"

Although Akechi had been studiously scrolling through his phone, something in that conversation is niggling his memories.

It's not a particularly strange conversation. A name, perhaps? Yosuke, and a mysterious senpai…

"It was lovely to meet you today, Akechi-kun," a soft voice distracts him from his thoughts, and Akechi looks up to see Misono. The other man is almost a head shorter than him, eyes gentle as he bows. "I've always found it interesting to meet people from other jurisdictions of life."

"Me too, Misono-san. Although I'm not a particularly musical person, I've listened to an album carrying your name once. I quite liked it, despite it being quite avant-garde. I'm not sure if this rings a bell?"

He describes the album cover – the lone stag in the forest, the jarring piano compositions, before Misono's eyes widen. Not just that, a guy hanging a few steps behind Misono has stopped staring at the ceiling in boredom to scrutinise Akechi before his eyes widen.

"No way, you can't be!" The boy bounds next to Misono, obviously friends by how unperturbed Misono is by him leaning heavily on his shoulder. Misono just adjusts when the boy leans forward in excitement. "Did someone recommend that CD?"

Akechi's looking at them both, before nodding.

"Yes, I was buying other music when that was recommended to me. What…"

He looks further and sees that the boy is wearing hipster clothing. Earrings, shredded jeans, carefully styled natural-looking hair, and he frowns.

"Akechi-kun, the album you just described was one of my first ones," Misono answers with a slight smile. "It is also my worst-selling one. No-one wanted to buy it. Even now, no-one recommends it."

"I love it!" The boy replies to Misono, jostling the other man's elbow, and Misono smiles fondly at him. "Hey, Detective Prince Akechi-kun! Did you buy that CD from," and he names a shop that doesn't ring any bells with Akechi until he also names a suburb quite close to Shibuya.

"Yes," Akechi replies. "How did…"

"I think I'm the one who gave you that CD!" The hipster-looking guy says, and Akechi is scouring his memories now. It had been a short moment, anyhow, and bizarre besides. At least the forcefulness matches his memories. "What a coincidence! I was a little disappointed that you never came back to tell me if you liked the CD or not, you know?"

The boy swings a hand out to shake, face an open book of expectation even while Misono starts adopting an expression of light exasperation.

"Hi, I'm Hikaru Kondo! I'm a music student moonlighting busker. Anyone who likes Misono's first album is someone I will like! Can we be friends?"

"Hikaru, don't bother Akechi-kun," Misono finally steps in, trying to push Hikaru's hand down.

Raised in another country, perhaps?

But there's something in Hikaru's eyes, a directness to it that has Akechi holding out his phone in offering.

Akechi doesn't believe in coincidence. He thinks, maybe.

Could it be?

A quick beep later, Hikaru is laughing, a ringing laugh that freezes alongside him.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Star** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

"Look, Misono! I made a new friend!" Hikaru turns excitedly to his companion, who is hiding a smile behind his hand.

"Alright, you've done enough. Thank you for listening to Hikaru's whims, Akechi-kun. We have to leave now, or we'll miss our shuttle. May we meet again."

"If you're going to the music shop anytime, text me!" Hikaru calls. Misono's grip must be deceptively strong because he's basically dragged out of the premises.

It leaves Akechi to say goodbye to all the crew members, looking at the new number in his phone with speculation.

  


* * *

  


"Bro, you got a kiss on the cheek from Risette," is basically the opinion of his whole class when he arrives, the boys in awe.

"Will you truly only accept girls that like horror movies, Akechi-kun?" The girls clamour to ask, and he retreats to the honour student group who does all of the same gushing but at least quieter.

The next week, Akechi's eyes are inevitably drawn to the comments underneath the Good Morning Japan episode. Most of them are for Risette – praising how cute she is, and how beautiful she's grown up. Many of them are also praising her new movie – a tragicomedy where she truly shines, apparently, and many fans lurk to fight out their opinions in increasingly long message chains.

Misono also has a fair share of fans who are much more subdued. The whole group seems to be of the more artsy sort in any case, and many praised Misono's humble nature.

Interspersed in equal amounts in the sea of Risette comments are ones directed to him.

 _Akechi-kun is so handsome!_ Is the main consensus, followed by other praises on certain jokes he told, or how smart and successful he is already. There are negative ones, of course, but in all, he can't help but refresh the page a few times a day and read through them all.

It's a familiar, addicting feeling that Akechi is trying his hardest to shake off.

He's been down this path before. The validation of these masses needs to mean nothing. He shouldn't so happy with being _seen_.

On an early Saturday, after putting down baskets near the Hospital's main information centre, Saito thinks it over.

"We exist when we are in the minds of others," Saito says, watching the small kid corral in front of her. It's an old thing, colourful mats long worn smooth by many little feet and the plastic balls and games provided scarred with too much usage. "You shouldn't judge yourself too harshly just because you like the attention. Everyone likes validation, Akechi-kun."

"Even when you know that it's all a farce?" Akechi asks back, tone pleasant, stacking the knitted toys from Saito's basket onto a small display for her.

"It's not about whether it's a farce or not with fame," Saito shakes her head. "Because at the moment, that validation is real. The praise is real. Perhaps it's fragile praise that can collapse and be forgotten in a heap, but that doesn't stop you from knowing that you were great in someone else's eyes in just that moment. When you read comments about yourself, you're probably just prolonging that grand feeling, Akechi-kun. As long as you don't get dependant on it, it's not bad to enjoy it a little. I mean, I can brag I know the Second Detective Prince to the kids now, you know?"

Saito's smile is a warm thing that nearly swallows her eyes, and Akechi manages a chuckle.

"Why are you always right, Saito-san?"

"That's because I'm old," Saito replies. "And questions about validation are a familiar thing because it's not as if only children need it. Everyone does, for the sake of proving that your existence means something."

Akechi finishes the display of colourful knitted accessories and dolls, stacking the baskets on top of one another.

"Even you, Saito-san?"

"Maybe," Saito says. "The older I get, the more I wonder if it's the fate of the elderly to fade from everyone's minds, as slowly and as painlessly as possible. No one to remember you, no person living to make new memories with… Is meaning something that can be created by oneself in a void?"

Akechi quietly picks up Saito's baskets, listening.

He's long noticed that Saito isn't as happy as she seems. Although penultimately an optimistic person, conversations often drift to more existential, lonelier topics.

Isolation, worth. Family.

Despite the many photos of Saito's family on her desk, Akechi has never once seen anyone visit Saito at all. No grandchildren running around, no added pictures on the wall. Saito's office first looks like a place of familial warmth. But the more he visits Saito, sitting in her unchanging office, surrounded by photos and drawings of people he's never seen her live with, visit, or even talk seriously about—

There is, Akechi thinks, definitely something there.

"By the way, Akechi-kun. Do you want to visit with me?"

"Who are you talking about, Saito-san?" Akechi asks.

"The girl you recommended to me before just gave birth to her child," Saito says kindly. "She says she wants to thank you if you don't mind."

"Hinata Osumi?" Akechi asks with a hint of hesitation over the name. It's been a few months since then – It's May now, and he'd thought he would never hear from her again.

"Yes," Saito says patiently. "Would you have the time? I'll be leaving to visit her at ten-thirty."

He… didn't have anything much to do. Wakaba's stocks are high, his own tools crafted and ready to use in bulk. Shido rarely has jobs for him to do in the daytime, and schoolwork was still laughingly easy. Atsuzawa was out of their precinct again, on the Director's orders.

Perhaps this is what Saito needs to raise her Arcana?

"I wouldn't mind accompanying you to meet her, Saito-san," Akechi ultimately agrees, and Saito nods with a smile.

"Come back down here at ten-thirty then, Akechi-kun. Hinata-san would be glad to see you again."

A few hours later, he's suddenly holding a baby in his arms, his absolutely tiny little brother and it's squirming and this is the worst idea he's ever had. With an unhappy choke, it vomits fluid onto his sleeve before going straight back to rubbing its dirty mouth all over the front of his coat, and Akechi wants to take his coat to the dry cleaners right this instant.

"Oh, isn't Shion as cute as always," Saito coos.

"He really seems to like you, Akechi-kun," Hinata nods, and Akechi doesn't understand how they came to those conclusions because Shion stares at him with soulless eyes before upchucking another mouthful of fluid.

Heavens, babies were so gross.

**Sun Rank 2 - Ise Saito**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! :D Thanks for all your support last chapter, hehe.  
> Sorry for all the down action this chap, I know it's a lot of um, sitting around and talking, but I was really happy to confirm your suspicions that yes, the hipster guy came back, and yes, he has a whole storyline, and sometimes I wonder how long chapters are going to be one day to fit it all hahaha...hah
> 
> You know, after reading some of your comments last chapter I'm thinking about how many of you will want to choke me next chapter but please enjoy this chapter of kind-of-reprieve. Just one more chapter until P5 starts yay~  
> (btw Akira was totally watching Akechi's Good Morning Japan segment)  
> It's always fun to write Minato! And a small glance at P4 is doing. Yes, Souji/Yu got into Tokyo Uni like the Chad he is, but he's also adopted all the cats in the area uwu. It's not his fault they're just rlly cute ok. Also Mitsuru didn't actually expect Ken to meet anyone, but hey.
> 
> Someone asked me about in chapter warnings and uh, I thought about it a lot. I'm going to stick to 'chose not to archive warn' in general, but with a blanket statement that violence is sometimes gonna get violenty i.e. blood + things and social issues are gonna be explored regarding mental health and canon-typical stuff. If you're not ok with that, uh. My deepest apologies.  
> Otherwise, see you next week! I'll edit throughout the week. Thank you very much for reading, I've read so much bad news this week - I hope you and yours are all safe. Please take care, you guys. Peace


	23. Chapter 23

The temporary housing that Hinata is placed in isn't bad – it's a share house, but Hinata assures them that since everyone who stayed were young women it wasn't as intimidating as it could be. There's a familiar tinge of an institution in how everything is set out – the straight corridors with wear and tear in the corners and walls from many tenants moving in and out of the residence, the cheerful impersonality of the reception.

The issue is the fact that this organisation targets young, pregnant women. After birth, Hinata has half a year before she will be politely pushed to find other housing options.

Saito says this with a familiar look of resigned placation. Hinata is cradling Shion in her chest after Akechi had quickly given it back to her, coat now hanging on his arm because of its fluids.

"I know it's unfair," Saito says with a weary smile, "but half a year is still better than some other programs. Some of the houses have turnover rates of three months, which is definitely skimping on resources."

Saito has a gift for waiting patiently, and that's what she does as Akechi makes himself scarce by standing in the corner of Hinata's side of the room. The other side holds another single bed with baby clothes geared towards girls, the concrete room lit weakly by a small window across from him. It was cloudy today, the grey sort that tinged everything with just a touch of monochrome. Saito and Hinata look like a part of a black-white still-life painting, Saito's hunched back and Hinata's sudden stillness.

"It's alright," Hinata finally says, and in her eyes is that flicker of steely determination that Akechi had first seen when he offered her a hand in the dark. "I only added myself to the extra part of the maid service because it paid well. I have other good sources for my resume."

There's a sharpness in that response that makes Akechi take notice. A familiar look in her eyes.

Like calls to like, after all.

"That's a really good spirit, Hinata-san," Saito's response is smooth like water, sounding vaguely professional and encouraging as she pulls an old tablet from her small bag. "If you don't mind this retired old lady butting in when they probably invite a worker to the centre, I can help you with what unemployment portals to join and such."

"Please, Saito-san," Hinata bows seriously in Saito's direction, and they go through a familiar song and dance that Akechi has heard variations of, throughout his years. There are many organisations and Departments in their resulting session he hasn't heard for a long time, a nostalgic bitterness rising when he hears them.

"You must be bored, Akechi-kun," Saito laughs twenty minutes into their discussion. Akechi looks up from the comments that readers gave on an article covering his apparent 'genius'. He switches the screen of his phone off when he turns up the charm and shakes his head.

"Hardly, Saito-san. I'm here to visit Osumi-san with you, not to disrupt your own visitation. And your discussion is educational in itself, if not slightly nostalgic," Akechi flits his face to something more wistful, and the gaze of both women in front of him holds realisation and sympathy.

"I read from an article that you were an orphan, Akechi-kun?" Hinata asks as she absentmindedly wipes some drool of Shion's face with his bib.

Akechi gives a slight shrug, expression sliding into melancholy. "Well, yes. My father left my mother as soon as she was found pregnant, and she was also a young lady such as yourself at the time. Raising me by herself was a hard endeavour. She, unfortunately, died when I was eight. Your conversation reminded me of my own experience in institutions…" He trails off, before returning back to meet Hinata's eyes, and he crinkles his own in a smile. "It also makes me wonder if my mother also had these struggles when I was young."

Hinata purses her lips. "I'm sorry to hear that your father was a scumbag too." Akechi tries hard to hide the flash of humour that the sentence sparks.

"Indeed," Akechi demurs, tucking his smile away for a politer one.

He'd usually consider this a waste of time, but he finds it hard to consider it so when Saito's Arcana ranked up for the first time in the months he's known her. It's harder to find an edge for her – the relationship between him and Wakaba had been clear from the start; the exploration of the Metaverse. Atsuzawa's role as Justice was similarly reflected in their interactions and very job. What angle was she?

Family? Connections? Social justice?

So when Saito hums and frowns over a certain place that Hinata has to visit in person, Akechi finds himself volunteering.

"If it's not convenient for you, Saito-san, I don't mind helping Osumi-san on that day. Your booking on June… the twelfth? That government agency is quite close to Police Headquarters, and I've passed it a few times. It's only for initial reporting, right?"

"Would you, Akechi-kun?" Saito brightens up. "I have to go to the doctors for a check-up that day, so it'll be a weight off my mind."

"I'll meet you at Nagatacho Station?" Akechi asks genially at Hinata, who shrugs in reply.

"If you're offering, I'll appreciate the guidance," Hinata replies. "Though if you're busy, I really can handle all this by myself."

And the world freezes, to Akechi's shock.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Tower** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Another Arcana so soon? He finds there are strange prerequisites with Arcanas. Sometimes they seem arbitrary – Hikaru is a prime example, Wakaba as well. But in other times they seem strangely interconnected. If he had never refused Shido's offer to lodge in one of his apartments, he would never have met Saito. And perhaps without Saito, he would never have met Hinata again.

He turns to Hinata with renewed interest.

"No, it's no imposition at all. I've recently found myself having more time on my hands since no major ongoing investigations are going on right now."

"Right, Detective Prince," Hinata's smile transforms into something slightly teasing. "How many girls will want to kill me by walking next to you?"

"My fanbase is negligible, Osumi-san. I'm sure whatever you're imagining is a gross exaggeration of reality," Akechi feigns humbleness.

Saito watches them with a smile on her face. "That's settled then," she claps with satisfaction, before starting to wrap up their talk. "Akechi-kun, I'll give you the rest of the materials on the day to pass onto Hinata-san," Saito promises. "We covered more bases than I expected today."

"We'll take our leave then," Akechi excuses them both, and Hinata trails behind them to give them a proper farewell at the gate.

"She's a good girl," Saito says fondly as they walk down to the bus stops together. "I'm glad we were able to help her."

Akechi stays silent, letting Saito chatter off into other topics. An avid bird watcher, Saito takes care to point to any bird they see and share her experiences with them, some which are genuinely humorous and make Akechi huff out into surprised laughter.

"Now that's an expression you should make more often," Saito says with satisfaction when they reach the dorm again. "See you soon, Akechi-kun. Thank you again, for offering to help."

They separate with a smile. Akechi takes the time before evening to roam Mementos and spend time honing Morrigan. The eerie silence, the wind that sometimes picks up – after Wakaba, Mementos never felt the same. There's a truncated train of thought around the corner, a continuous mumble behind his shoulder, and Akechi tries his hardest not to search for ghosts as he continues onward.

With the advent of fame, Akechi fights his way down and stands in front of a previously blocked entrance to Mementos. The glowing red stripes on the black doors pulse before a simple touch slides it open. Akechi looks down at the revealed escalator.

 **You're more than ready,** Morrigan says. **I'm sick of bashing up Pixies. Let's go.**

What had Morgana called these paths? Akechi thinks to himself as his metal sabatons clink against the iron grooves of the escalator, descending from a throbbing blood red to a deep blue. There's already a shiver that crawls up his spine as he descends into Aiyatsbus. From here on, the exploration of floors will have to be quick. On feet, it'll be much more difficult than being in Morgana's cat bus.

A familiar thrum of adrenaline hits his veins as he jumps down onto the tracks and starts jogging through the blue tunnels, the Shadows here the same shambling wrecks they usually are, if only slightly more difficult.

The last time, the furthest in Mementos he had ever gotten was Sheriruth, and that was because of the Phantom Thieves taking the world by the storm. If Akechi only spoke of his fame as a Detective Prince, he had only delved as far as Akzeriyyuth.

He hadn't forgotten that one of the main clues to his situation is the continued mystery of Mementos. He had died before the depths of Mementos was revealed to him, even though all of the Phantom Thieves had noted the nigh creepy notes that Mementos took as they got further down. The bars, the cognitive Shadows of people catching trains towards the very depths of society's dark psyche…

Yet another reason, Akechi thought as he magnified his laser sword with a brief burst of concentration and cut through three Succubus at once, to allow Akira's arrest. Without the Phantom Thieves, the depths of Mementos would never open.

It might've hurt his pride to admit it so frankly a few months ago, but 'saving the world' was a different beast than 'kill Shido'. One was a powerful man. The other…

Minato's stories flash in Akechi's mind; of the powers that are strong enough to affect reality so vividly, of his own last battle against Nyx.

The other, Akechi finally allows himself to think with a dry swallow, may be equivalent to a God. If he faced reality, Joker had surpassed him in a mere year. Even if the latent problem lay in Akira's own hands for accepting a deal that destroys the world, there is also no other that Akechi would want to be by his side to face such a dangerous unknown.

It's with a mental apology that Akechi emerges from Mementos, capturing the perfect moment when the sun dipped under the horizon. The Tokyo street stretches straight for a length before curving, and the gleam of purple sun on the metal chassis of passing cars is a sight beautiful enough that he sends it to Akira.

It's near the end of May already, Akechi thinks as he looks at the chat log. Full of trivial, petty, beautiful things they try to share with each other. A waste of time he wouldn't indulge with anyone else, if not for the thoughts and importance of the other to him. Nothing can really change the fact that he was the first hand in the dark. He cannot seem to help the fact that all his plans require Akira to be a functioning asset. Its as if he was fate's lynchpin. Golden boy to the end.

_Enjoy your rest, Akira._

  


* * *

  


On June the second, he goes to the music shop for a new CD. Atsuzawa has banned him from investigating alongside him when he's chasing one of Shido's leads for Akechi's safety, so Naho has been giving him a few more breaks in their schedule. He thinks he should do something for his birthday. Turning seventeen isn't something particularly special to him the first or second round through, but he thinks he should at least do _something_.

And because he is going there, he texts Hikaru.

Pursuing Arcanas haven't led him wrong so far, and his impressions on Hikaru have painted such a disparate picture of him in comparison to Akechi that he admits that he feels some curiosity.

[Akechi: Hello, Hikaru Kondo. I am Goro Akechi, we exchanged contacts at the TV Station. I was wondering if your invitation to meet up was still available?]

It takes a few minutes of Akechi staring sightlessly out the train windows until his phone buzzes with a reply.

[Kondo: Oh man, perfect! I was free this afternoon too! I'm excited, hehe. See you there :D]

Sure enough, the other teen has an instrument case on his back when he greets Akechi at the front of the store, and his school uniform is surprisingly familiar. The striped tie and shirt combo is something Akechi sees nearly every morning, as a few Kosei High students also use Saito's building.

"It's nice to meet you again, Kondo-kun," Akechi greets the other boy with a polite bow, and Hikaru grins. A few earrings gleam in his ear, silver hoops that match the slightly wild aura he has.

"That sounds strange! I've never really gotten used to people calling me by my last name. Just call me Hikaru, and maybe you'll let me call you Goro?"

Hikaru's wide grin is unrepentant at how shocking that statement is, and Akechi blinks.

Goro. It's not a name that anyone in his life really uses. That casual intimacy was something even Akira had never crossed.

"That silence means a yes, right?" Hikaru blithely continues, dragging Akechi inside by the arm. "Punch me if you actually don't want me to use it because Misono always complains I come on too strong. But please don't punch too hard, because violence is banned in the store and you don't want any staff to see. That granny over there? Keeps grudges for months, don't want to get on her bad side."

Hikaru rambles, pointing to a cleaning lady, dodge clumps of students hovering over different genres of CDs until they arrive at the secluded corner of the second-hand section again.

"Whew! Whoops, I didn't ask before coming here instinctively. Anything you got in mind, Goro? I have a spectacular memory for music!"

Hikaru puffs out his chest, and Akechi examines his Star Arcana. Enthusiastic, slightly childish. Determined to be his friend, for some strange reason.

"Do you know any of these albums on this list, Hikaru-kun?" He finally asks, taking out the list he wrote a year back. He had kept it with his music CDs, a small cut of paper scribbled with the artists that Minato had shared with as much enthusiasm as he'd ever seen from him.

Hikaru takes the piece of paper carefully and scans the names on it.

"Wow, these are some great artists you have here. The album names are all late 2000s though," Hikaru muses as he thinks, rubbing his chin. He absent-mindedly dodges another customer who is shuffling through, sliding the hard plastic of his instrument case to his front to avoid being jostled. "I had a feeling when you didn't come back to buy more music, but are you trying to buy all this music on recommendation?"

Although he asks this, he's already given back the piece of paper and looking critically over the shelves in front of him, pulling out a few plastic cases when he finds what he's looking for.

"I wanted to expand my horizons, and one of my friends was a big fan of music. His recommendations haven't led me wrong so far," Akechi shares, and Hikaru hums. His brown hair catches the light when he turns, painted nails tapping on the stack of CDs that he's already found for him.

"You'll have to find the rest on the internet," Hikaru says as he plops five cases into his hand. "I've never seen them in-store."

After waiting together to check-out the CDs, they talk casually about the genres of music that they listen to. When Akechi casually mentions jazz, Hikaru's eyes light up.

"Hey, if you like jazz, want to go somewhere with me?"

And that's how they end up in a jazz bar in Kichijoji, Akechi looking around in appreciation at the dark ambience and the calm atmosphere that's steeped into this place. The other patrons aren't overly loud, some listening to the live music with appreciation, others talking in low murmurs. The exposed brick of the walls give it a little rustic charm, and it feels… enclosed. Removed from society just a street above.

"I come here a lot," Hikaru laughs over a lime-green drink. He'd ordered the same for Akechi, and when he sips it, there's a refreshing taste of cucumber, lime and a hint of melon. "Not that often with friends though. It's a quiet and calm place, and I know the owner. I sometimes perform here, see?"

Hikaru waves at the instrument still hooked over his shoulder, and Akechi has long surmised what it was.

"You play the saxophone?" Akechi asks, and Hikaru nods.

"Yep, an alto sax. I've already sworn my whole life to mastering it," Hikaru says fondly, patting the case. "It's my one and only dream to share my music to the world." There's an undeniable passion in the undertone of his voice, the tone of a person who has long decided what goals to shoot for. It's a far cry from his fellow students when they face career meetings with their teachers, who all glance at Akechi and whine how lucky he is to know what he wants to do in the future.

The obvious answer here would be…

"May I, perhaps, ask why?" Akechi asks, carefully adjusting the plastic bag that holds his CDs on the table as it tilts a little from a wobbly leg.

Hikaru's face is an open book.

"Simple! Music is the language of the _soul_ , Goro! It's painting emotions over the canvas of time. It's creating emotion in the seconds that pass by only once, and sometimes when words can't convey what we mean, music and art can." Hikaru leans forward, and the close proximity allows Akechi to realise that his eyes weren't black – they were a very, very deep green. "Music is another form of _expression_ , and when I contribute my notes to ring through silences I feel like I'm truly alive. Because music makes me happy, and what's the point of living a life that doesn't give me happiness?"

Akechi blinks at Hikaru – brown-haired, black-green eyes, and a sharp profile that in the slant of the light is more obviously Eurasian. He's not leaning backwards to regain the personal space lost, but Hikaru seems to make note of it as he jolts and widens his eyes.

It's with a solid blush that he leaps backwards.

"Ah, I did it again! Misono is always scolding me for coming in too strong! I should've asked you what type of colour you liked since it's our first meeting!"

"…No, it's fine, Hikaru-kun," Akechi replies calmly, eyes assessing Hikaru over the rim of a lime-green mocktail. "That was enlightening."

"Wait, really?" Hikaru blinks at him. "You still want to be my friend?"

"Sure," Akechi replies, easy, and Hikaru's beam comes back.

"Then I'll invite you next time I'm performing here! I have a great sax repertoire that'll last through the night, you know? I'm a popular regular here!"

"I'll look forward to it, Hikaru-kun."

"Ehehe," Hikaru laughs a little, that strange note of intensity gone with the wind. He turns around to look happily at the singer on the corner stage crooning out some Blues in moderately warped English, and Akechi is reassessing this Star Arcana of his.

_What is the point of living a life that doesn't give me happiness?_

Dreams. They're thick in Hikaru's eyes, a boy he can easily see chase unattainable stars to the end of the earth.

He thinks he might know what angle the Star Arcana is going to progress in.

**Star Rank 2 – Hikaru Kondo**

  


* * *

  


"Atsuzawa-san, we might need to stop our arrests," Akechi says back in their tiny office later in the week. The stacks of paper from the Tenkosai and Kazuichi Incidents still aren't fully off their desks – trials are still ongoing, and prosecutors still sometimes ask them for help or evidence. It doesn't help that they hauled in so many this time, and the justice system has always been overclocked.

Shido is slowly working up to targeting the Minister of Transport, having solidified his support throughout the past half-year. The supports he held in his last life have mostly come under him, with their various minor celebrities and side-ventures. Ichiryusai Madarame, for example, came under Shido's umbrella underneath one of his most treasured noble contacts because he had been a long-time patron. Suguru Kamoshida came under Shido's protection through Principal Kobayakawa, who was an old classmate of the SIU Director.

Little cogs, slowly clicking into place.

"Akechi, why do you say that?" Atsuzawa replies, thin fingers flipping through some case records quickly. They've been following the money for one of Shido's sidekicks, who had been running some illegal trade underneath this export business. Akechi sits in their small office – Naho is off printing something, and his eyes pause on the notes they scribbled out together. Vague plans. Should they arrest the man on the charges of Shido-relevant crimes, like the illegal trade? Or something more mundane like his recurring tax evasion? And looks up.

"I've heard rumours, Atsuzawa-san. Although we've disguised our tracks as much as we can, the mastermind is getting increasingly annoyed that his plans keep getting delayed."

Annoyed was an understatement. Shido had been snapping into his phone for more than half an hour before he read Akechi's report and praised him for a job well done, mood slightly calming from the clear lists that Akechi laid out on who was loyal and who wasn't.

Those who weren't had quickly fallen off the radar. Two by Akechi's hand, the rest through bankruptcy, collusion, scandals, medical misdiagnosis...

Atsuzawa's name has been appearing with alarming frequency, and Akechi faces his mentor with a serious look. His folds his gloved hands in front of him and increase the sincerity of his expression.

"We should stop."

_Or you'll get hurt._

Atsuzawa looks at him for a moment, before sighing and pulling out a lollipop from one of his many pockets. Pulling off the wrapper and chewing on it lackadaisically, Atsuzawa taps at his computer with no energy.

"Alright kiddo. I promised I'll listen to your cues, so I'll do it. Since we have all this dirt on this guy, we'll stop after we pull this person in for tax evasion? Then we can chase that lead on that underage prostitution circle in Shinjuku. Less stress, like good old times."

Akechi breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes from his tense posture, again marvelling at how easy it was to talk to Atsuzawa.

"Thank you for listening to me, Atsuzawa-san," he just says, going back to their papers, and Atsuzawa scratches his five-o-clock shadow with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to thank me _every_ time you know. I know I'm amazing."

He accentuates that with a loud yawn and a sideways slump on his chair as he continues to lazily type out whatever report he's working on, and Akechi only just manages to alert him to sit properly when he hears Naho's heels clicking down the corridor.

  


* * *

  


"This way, Hinata-san," Akechi waves at Hinata, who is carrying Shion in a baby harness tied to her front. Nagatacho station is filled with important men and women in business attire, sharply dressed with brands more expensive than normal. There are a lot of important buildings in Nagatacho – Police Headquarters, the Diet Building, the courthouses are all here, alongside various government departments and offices.

He's popped out of Headquarters for this, as guiding and giving Hinata the paperwork shouldn't last for more than half an hour. They walk slowly down the wide streets, past the iron bars and large gardens of grand, aged buildings. On the way, Akechi is explaining each of the documents Saito handed to him yesterday, and why they're important.

Hinata follows on quite quickly, nodding and asking questions where relevant. They walk through a few side-streets to get to the smaller building where Hinata is required to apply and report to, for government payments regarding her new circumstances, and they quickly reach the entrance.

A few people are waiting inside, and Hinata stands there for a long moment, looking through the glass. The waiting seats are filled with people who look a bit more ragged than normal. A loose-haired old man, for example, sits bowed at the end of a line of couches, a man with horrifyingly large eyebags standing at the counter scribbling something on a form. On the side there's a woman who has obviously tried to dress up, her dress faded and stretched from years of washing. There's a clench in Hinata's teeth as she looks at the scene in front of her, and Akechi reads a stubborn sense of pride in the tilt of her chin.

"Is anything wrong, Osumi-san?" Akechi asks politely though he already knows the problem.

The documents in Hinata's hands' wrinkle.

"It's nothing," she replies, voice sharp and loud. Noticing her tone, she immediately takes in a deep breath, before turning around and trying again. "It's nothing, Akechi-kun. Nothing to concern yourself with…"

She trails off when she realises Shion had started hiccupping from her angry reply from before, and her face immediately twists into an interesting mix of concern and annoyance.

"No, don't cry Shion," Hinata immediately starts swaying, hand cupping the baby's head. "I know you don't like loud noises, but that wasn't even that loud, come on, mommy has to go in and give in paperwork…"

Shion continues to cry, louder and louder, and Hinata pushes Shion's face into her shoulder even as she gives into a scowl of frustration. As Shion continues to cry, her body wounds tighter like a coiled spring, and Akechi gives a sigh in his head even as he steps forward with his most pleasant smile on his face.

"Will you allow me to take Shion for a second, Osumi-san?" Akechi asks genially. "It's obviously been a long day for you, so maybe I can help by allowing you to take a breather for a minute or two."

Hinata doesn't hesitate – unstrapping Shion from her body and placing him in Akechi's arms. She takes a second to check he's holding him properly before she disappears into a narrow alleyway to the side.

Then there's a hoarse scream.

 _"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH,_ " Akechi hears Hinata roar, before there's the sound of a few tumbling trash cans. "Why, why, why, _why did it come to this?_ "

Each 'why' is punctuated with what sounds like a kick. Akechi is holding this baby in his arms stiffly, wondering how to reach into his pocket to tell Naho he might be late coming back when Hinata remerges, hair and face immaculate as if she didn't just have a screaming match with some trash cans.

There's a faux sense of calm when she takes Shion back, and a few moments of silence as the both of them pretend that the last few seconds didn't happen.

"…Do you wish to talk about it?" Akechi finally approaches the topic.

"No," Hinata replies, pointed and sharp, making a point to look at Akechi straight in the eyes. Hinata's gaze is fierce, simmering with something angry, but she holds Shion with softness and care. "Thank you for your concern and help, but I can handle this myself. We both know that my issue is stupid when looking at my situation as a whole."

Akechi doesn't deny it, and Hinata gives him a quick nod.

She faces the unemployment office with a determined look on her face and grits her jaw.

Hinata steps in with her head held high, marches straight towards the receptionist like she isn't trodding all over the remnants of her pride and puts down her paperwork politely. Akechi takes a moment to watch her before he takes his own leave.

**Tower Rank 2 – Hinata Osumi**

  


* * *

  


Time flies by in a flurry of moments. Shido's targets for the past few months don't officially have Palaces, but it's enough to hunt them down in Mementos and pretend they do. The summer heat is as unrelenting as always, pressing down in a humid pressure that makes many of his class complain that they're drowning in air. He goes on a few other television shows on Shido's behest, but July gives him a little reprieve

"How're you going with exams?" Is generally the question that he gets asked by the people he meets. Saito bakes a few extra cookies and other goods for him as an encouragement gift, Haru starts bringing study materials to their after-dinner meetings to let him quiz her on topics when they have time. Hikaru cites that he needs to desperately study for maths, while Atsuzawa gives him pity candy whenever he sees any homework scattered alongside his investigation files.

When he gets the top score, most of the people he knows are happy for him.

Back-claps, envious gazes. There are more sighs than usual this year, from people who say 'as expected of Akechi-kun'. He takes all of it with his gentlest smile and a few pretty words back, and he allows himself to feel tentatively proud. Even if he's reborn, he still had to write well in the exam on the day.

Shido merely raises an eyebrow and dismisses exam season.

"There's been increasing talk about the comas we're inducing," Shido says as he walks around the table. His father is still taller than him, and he knows it by the way he stands tall and broad when he steps close to Akechi. Akechi refuses to be intimidated, and Shido's expression flickers into approval. "Eight high-profile victims and the medical world is starting to get suspicious. I've already started to have some plants spread rumours that this might not be a sickness. A few more will allow the SIU Director to start making moves to begin an investigation team. Your internship with Atsuzawa is ending soon, yes?"

Akechi clears his throat gently.

"Yes, Shido-san," Akechi replies. "It's been nearly a year, and my internship will officially finish by the end of August. If my performance review is good, I can apply to continue into another unit for work experience or join another department entirely."

"Good. Join the new unit for the coma victims. We'll be able to start framing any obstacles in our way with the coma investigations. It'll tie them up until we find some real dirt, and they'll go to jail legitimately."

Shido laughs lowly, humour simmering underneath the surface.

"It's been a year since I met you, Akechi," he says with nonchalance. "How do you feel about our… How would you phrase it? Alliance?"

"Our partnership has been proceeding excellently," Akechi replies.

"How so?" Shido asks, eyes glittering with intent. They are fixated onto Akechi, on the words he hasn't said yet with an almost hunger. As if Shido is seeing something he cannot attain that he wishes he could. It's a strange feeling, coming from a world where his every action and word had been dismissed.

He turns on the charm a few notches higher. A bit of a businessman's grease, a smidgeon of flattery. "I would say the maintenance of our agreement has been more than satisfactory, Shido-san," Akechi replies. "We have both achieved our initial goals spectacularly."

"What if I said I wished for more participation from you, Akechi?"

Akechi tilts his head.

"What do you mean, Shido-san?"

"It means that you are many times more useful than I expected," Shido replies, "with the one drawback being your limited usefulness because of the very terms of our contract."

"I see," Akechi replies, "but I find myself at a loss. My schedule right now is unfortunately full, especially since some Palaces are very time-consuming to explore. My deepest apologies, Shido-san. Perhaps we can approach this topic a little later?"

He reads the lines in between, of course. Shido has made an offer, and they both know that he was attempting generosity. Akechi was allowed to propose his conditions first.

However, Akechi refused.

He has a feeling that he is teetering on the edge, balancing on the edge of a knife. He thinks, the more he progresses with Shido, the more he loses in other, immeasurable matters. It's that intuition that he follows as he meets Shido's eye.

Strangely, Shido still seems to keep his good humour after his refusal, dark eyes glittering as he assesses Akechi again.

"You keep," he says, voice contemplative as he weaves his fingers together and stares over them, "surprising me, Goro Akechi."

Akechi bows a little in reply while keeping his silence. Shido lets him leave with a wave of his hand. Akechi bows again, before with a swift turn of his heel he leaves the room.

So Akechi has even finished faking his wish for his approval, Shido thinks as he watches the closed door. These months of observation has truly shed light upon how Goro Akechi truly stands more a testament to Shido himself than his mother. An unflinching negotiator, intelligent, unswayed by approval and vanity and material things. Although he looks at Shido with veiled hatred, revenge seems more and more like a secondary goal. Goro Akechi is aiming for something larger, with Shido a mere stepping stone, and Shido bursts into laughter at the audacity of the thought.

It peters out soon after, and Shido adjusts his tie before stepping out of the room himself.

No-one needs to raise a dog that'll bite its own master.

Perhaps it is time to see the progress of that leash he has been preparing, all this time.

  


* * *

  


He's at school tapping a pencil silently on his notebook at the cusp of August, and in the room are a few people in the miserable throes of a mild summer cold. It's with mild amusement that Akechi watches at least three people becoming more and more annoyed at each sniff that disrupts the silence from the student's side of the room. The classroom air is muggy, and he's not in the best mood himself. Akechi is glad he's basically solidified his honour student smile on his face as he let's his mind wander, imagining clouds in a spotless blue sky.

At the beginning of August, Akechi added another small addition to Wakaba's Mementos room. There's a large tarp now that covers the majority of the back to block the mysterious hole that leads infinitely deep. Wakaba herself lies on a comfortable futon that separates her from the alien glow of Mementos room floors, and Akechi sometimes talks out loud as he crafts new freeze bombs and other such items.

"Futaba is doing well," he says sometimes because he's checked her school records and she's still attending. She hasn't regressed into becoming a hikikomori yet, and with no reports of trauma she is unlikely to ever will.

"I have a feeling that Shido is planning something," he says some other times.

"Do you think someone will one day create a cure for stupidity," he mutters bitterly on days where school requires him to do a _group project_ , and Wakaba listens to them all by alternatively praising her daughter, badmouthing Shido, or laughing raucously at Akechi's groupwork endeavours.

The bell that indicates the end of the school period disrupts his musings, with the teacher promising to ask about their notes on the French Revolution next lesson. All the students start chattering as they pack up to leave.

"My apologies," he bows to a few honour students that approached him for tutoring. "I have a personal errand today."

"Aww, that's a shame," one of them claps a hand on his shoulder. "We were going to invite you to karaoke afterwards! Hayashi managed to invite his sister's friends along, and they look super hot, you know?"

"Perhaps next time," Akechi compromises before leaving quickly.

It's a hamper that Saito has asked him to bring to Hinata, and it wasn't as if Hinata's care centre was too far away. Ichigaya was just a few stops away, so Akechi transports the large basket down the main roads to the more aged blocks, until he's fully in the backstreets and most of what he sees is just the backs of buildings or small, suburban cafés.

To his surprise, he doesn't even need to go inside.

Hinata is sitting outside with Shion despite the heat, underneath the sparse shade of a half-dead tree. It doesn't particularly make sense to Akechi, who knows that there is air-conditioning inside.

"Hello, Osumi-san," Akechi stops in front of her. She looks at him, frown on her face that only clears slightly when she recognises him.

"Saito-san did tell me that she wanted to give me something, but I didn't expect for her to send you," she replies, words slow from languid heat. "I thought you'd be too busy."

Akechi shrugs. "I usually am. Why are you sitting here in the heat, Osumi-san?"

Hinata grimaces.

"My roommate has brought some new boyfriend over, and I felt awkward so I left. But the social workers are here today, and they're hogging a little bit of the reception area to talk out some things with another girl, so I thought fuck it, and sat outside. I think Shion's getting a little too sweaty though," Hinata smiles fondly down at the baby in her arms.

A few months has made the baby become less of a blob of fat and stretch into something vaguely more human-shaped.

"Tell Saito-san I'm fine," Hinata sighs finally, as she reaches out to take the hamper from him. Peeking through it, he sees a few of the normal things – a few jars of jam or peanuts and snacks, as well as some soft knitted toys for Shion. "I'm not that broken up over my failed job interview."

Akechi stares down at the two and how they've hogged the small spot of shade that the tree provided before he sits down with an internal sigh. The sun shines right on him, and he can feel his future regrets already as his skin starts heating up.

"I sense that you aren't speaking the whole truth, Osumi-san," Akechi says, staring at the same white patch of concrete that Hinata was.

"Yeah, because it isn't your business," Hinata says as she leans her head on the wall, closing her eyes against the summer humidity. Against her, Shion has also been lulled into sleep by the heat, sleeping cradled in the crux of her elbow, and Akechi affects some of Saito's energy.

He waits.

The buzz of cicadas are suddenly deafening, a drone that comes and goes in waves, and Akechi fights against his instinct to pull out his phone to watch a line of industrious ants instead. They're all transporting pieces of bread from who knows where all the way into a small hole in the wall, and Hinata cracks by the thirty-first ant.

"Why are you all so nosy," Hinata groans, and Akechi blinks.

That's quite a… familiar complaint.

"It's truly nothing," Hinata continues, leaning more heavily on the brick wall. Her delicate face is pink with the heat, and she wrinkles her nose at a fly that comes to hover near her face without actually swatting it. "Just, what some people say. I don't listen of course, but it takes a little time to…"

Hinata trails off, her arms tightening around the boy in her arms.

"Hey, Goro Akechi. Celebrity Prince-sama. Can you tell me your honest opinion?"

Akechi tilts his head, eyes curious as Hinata slowly finds the words.

"Do you think Shion is a mistake? Tell me straight."

Akechi blinks.

"To answer your question," Akechi replies, "I must ask you a counter-question. Osumi-san, do you think Shion is a mistake?"

Hinata looks down at Shion, and her face has an achingly familiar conflict in it. It is a love that is weighted by loss, a mother who knows that her life's potential has largely transferred to the child in her arms and doesn't know what to do with that knowledge. The burden of this wasn't a choice she was prepared for.

"I… don't know," Hinata replies, tone complicated.

Akechi draws on her his mother's thousand faces. A day of happiness, a day of alcohol. A day of grief, a day of hatred. A day of peace, a day in the baths because she couldn't stand his face, and for the first time he reaches out a hand and cups Shion's head willingly.

It reminds him of Momo's head, the fragile skull in his hands. The bumps, the thrum of warmth and blood under a veneer of skin.

"Then that is my answer."

Hinata whips her head over to him, mouth set in an unimpressed line.

"That's not an answer!"

"But it is," Akechi answers easily, his voice smooth as he retracts his hand. He holds his tone steady and direct when he faces Hinata. "Although you framed your question as if you were asking me about a social issue, that's not the true crux of your question. If you decide Shion is a mistake, then he becomes a mistake. If you decide Shion is a blessing, then he is a blessing. What I think, as an outsider, doesn't truly matter because you're his mother, Osumi-san. Your opinion is the only one that matters."

"So if I say that Shion isn't a mistake," Hinata says waveringly, Akechi finishes for her.

"Then Shion isn't a mistake."

"Oh," is Hinata's only reply. After a silence, she glances at Akechi. "You know, I didn't expect you to be nice in real life as well."

"Should I be offended?" Akechi asks back with his TV smile on his face, and Hinata puffs out a breath of air.

"No. You're a lot more reserved than when you're on television, but your ideas. They're all still here. I'm impressed, Detective Prince-kun."

Hinata shoots him a tired smile, and Akechi stands up.

"Would you like a hand up?" Akechi asks, and Hinata takes it with a sweaty grip of her own. They both head inside, basking in relief in a cold blast of air conditioning. They meander through more menial topics as they return to Hinata's room.

"I hope you get a job soon, Osumi-san," Akechi bows, and Hinata shrugs, slinging Shion to rest his head on her shoulder.

"Me too, Akechi-kun. See you someday," Hinata replies, and Akechi nods.

"Will do."

**Tower Rank 3 – Hinata Osumi**

  


* * *

  


At the end of August, he's transferred to the newest established Investigations Unit in the General Division for the mysterious comatose incidents. Everyone in the office believes it's a fluff investigation, and the people he knows give him a few consolatory words when they pass.

Nothing much changes, to his surprise. Since Atsuzawa gave him blanket permission to use his desk in his department whenever he needs it, that's where Akechi is usually found. It's not as if Naho ever rejects his presence anyway, glad to have company as she chatters along about Takaki's recovery, gossip around the office, sharing different tips to get the old copy machine running.

September and October pass with not much to note except meetings here and there. Somehow his timetable clashes with Hikaru terribly enough that his promised performance gets delayed, while Haru had been chained to her father's side more and more often while Kunikazu tried to find someone interested in marrying her for more personal power.

If there was any interaction to note, it was the brief celebration that Saito and Akechi held when Hinata told them that she finally landed a job.

"It's just a server at a small café," Hinata says with a smile, "but it's definitely a start. They even let me put Shion in a small cot in the corner if he stays quiet."

"Right when it's the perfect time for you to start saving up for a new place to stay," Saito grins. "Do you have any places picked from the catalogues I sent you? They're prepared for especially cheap rental."

"Yup, thanks Saito-san," Hinata replies, before jokingly looking at the non-existent line behind them. "Now are you two going to order? You'll hog up time here."

Akechi orders a coffee while Saito orders tea, and the manager of the place let Hinata sit with them for a while.

"I know of a very successful single mother, Osumi-san," Akechi said mid-conversation. "You're still very young. Your career isn't set in stone yet."

Hinata had beamed at him in a way he's never seen.

"Thanks, Akechi-kun. For that, you can earn the privilege of ordering another cup of coffee," she replied with spirits obviously lighter than any time they'd ever met her, and it was then when they finally exchanged phone numbers.

"I wonder how much money I'll make if I sell this," Hinata had jokingly pointed to his number, and Akechi gave her a pointed smile. "I was joking!" She insists, and the rest of the afternoon is peppered with Saito doting on Shion while Akechi stole some historical anecdotes on the state of Japan in the 50s for an assignment.

And on that brink of November, Shido looks at the materials in front of him and thinks.

This is enough.

**Tower Rank 4 – Hinata Osumi**

  


* * *

  


"I've heard some interesting news, Ai-chan," Shido says when the bodyguards unceremoniously kick her forward. She barely catches herself on her arms onto the carpet in front of a widescreen television playing some advertisements, and she glares up at the man sitting with his legs crossed, hands on his stomach. He looks just as he always had. Powerful, smug. Confident. "I hear that you're in some desperate straits lately."

"And whose fault is that," Hinata snarls, fisting the carpet under her fingers as she moves to get up before she winces from a bruise forming on her leg. She's not going to show weakness though, so she covers it up as she sits on one of his pristine couches. Expensive, buttery leather, rarely used, she can't help but note with a spark of bitter envy.

"You're going to get kicked out of that homeless shelter soon, aren't you?" Shido says with a tinge of veiled scorn, and Hinata deliberately places her hands on her lap.

"It's not a homeless shelter. It's an official home run by a non-profit organisation for young mothers," Hinata replies, and Shido's smirk doesn't falter.

"If you say so," he says slowly, like he's speaking to an especially slow toddler, and Hinata just wants to rip that expression off his face when he slides something forward.

It's a cheque. On it, in bold lettering, is an abominably high number.

Two million yen.

"It's yours if you want it," Shido says, amusement in his eyes when he notices Hinata had leaned forward unconsciously. "This will support the rent of that shoebox you chose for years with more to spare."

"What's the catch?" Hinata says suspiciously. Cash, after months of radio silence? She wasn't stupid - this wasn't child support. It was a bribe. For what remained the key question. Shido remains unphased.

"Are you really in the position to bargain right now, Ai-chan?" When Hinata stays silent, Shido laughs. "What, you think something better is going to come?" Shido mocks, uncrossing his legs as he leans forward. "What are you hoping for, hmm? Tell me, Ai-chan."

Hinata stares down at the pleats of her skirt between her fingers, and she rakes it against her fingernails when she clenches it in her hands. Do not be angry. _Don't_.

"My name isn't Ai-chan," she spits, "It's Hinata Osumi. My name is _Hinata_."

The drone of the television next to them plays rainbow light over their features. Their farce of a negotiation continues as Shido stares down at the woman sitting in front of him. Three of his bodyguards stand by the door, attentive, ignoring what was happening in front of them. They won't let her leave before he's done. "Ai-chan," Shido ignores her with his mocking smirk, "tell me who'll help you. Your parents? Your job?"

His words dig deep into something still too tender.

Her parents had taken one look at her and Shion standing in front of their house and turned away. Her mother had still looked the same – wearing the same black business skirt and formal shirt, the same pair of glasses. Perhaps she looked a little older around the eyes. At Hinata standing at the gate, she'd turned to their garage and watched the door automatically open, mouth pinched in that familiar look of disapproval. Her father had stepped out of the house a second later. After resting an eye on her for a second, he'd looked away.

Hinata stood there with her heart in her throat, familiar resentment in her lungs. The hand holding Shion's baby clothes is trembling when she first tries to voice something.

— _Mom_.

It came out as a cracked whisper, swallowed by the grind of the gears of the garage door.

This was stupid, Hinata bit her lip. It's so stupid that an opening garage door held so much more importance than their daughter coming home for the first time in more than a year.

"Mom," she managed to say this time. Her mother obviously heard her, with her stiffened shoulders. Her father put a supportive hand on her back, and another wave of anger she couldn't suppress washes over her.

Support, as if she was a monster. Something to fear.

_"Mom."_

"We have no daughter," her father said blandly as he walked into the garage and opened the car door for her mom who slipped inside without looking back. They started the car and rolled out, the tinted windows showing the both of them were staring straight with determination, and Hinata didn't even realise that her grip had become too strong until Shion started crying.

"No, hush, Shion, I'm sorry," she bounced him, humming a small tune. He's gurgling peacefully again soon enough, laying his head on her chest with trust, and Hinata can't help the familiar burn of betrayal as she turned away.

Her job had been another story, of her manager – who had been so supportive, so _helpful_ – suddenly calling her one morning when she was tying on her apron.

"Osumi, I'm sorry," her manager had stumbled awkwardly over his words, "but someone reported you saying that you were some kind of sex worker? Um, is that true?"

Hinata clenched the apron in her hands, hesitating. Apparently, the non-answer was enough.

"Osumi, I know it's unfair, I'm so sorry, but you understand we can't have that hanging over our heads right?" Her manager sweats, looking contrite as he twisted his hands. "We're right next to a day-care, and an elementary school is right around the corner. If people get wind of this our customers will drop so much, I already have a few people in mind who will start complaining…"

She was summarily given fifteen minutes to leave. Hinata was soon left standing out on the street with the spare clothes she'd stashed in the store, staring out at the street with apologies still echoing in her ears.

Words were cheap, Hinata found herself thinking as she tried to breathe past the anger. If he was truly sorry, then he should've stuck with her, but why would he? Why risk his own job for a newly hired worker? Even though he knew that she was going to get moved out of this housing option soon, although he knew that she _needed_ that job to pay the rent at the new place she's picked out.

That evening she folded a nappy over a cleaned Shion and stared at her son. Their temporary housing required them to share a room with others, so she always had him close because she didn't trust any of the other, similarly withdrawn, shifty-eyed people. He yawned into her shoulder, and she felt a bit of his drool when he rested his chubby cheek against her. He was sleepy, murmuring some sleepy babble, and she had wondered, a hand feather-soft over his downy hair, whether her crime was really so irredeemably unforgivable.

When Hinata looks up, there's a gleam of _knowing_ in Shido's smugness that has Hinata bristling.

"How did you know my parents and my job?"

"They're both unwilling to support you aren't they," Shido talks over her. "But I know!" He exclaims, clapping his hands. "You've found someone else, haven't you? A retired social worker, who can't even take your case properly… And Goro Akechi, the second coming of the _Detective Prince_ himself."

The words 'Detective Prince' drip out of Shido's mouth with an extra flavour of mockery than the others and Hinata hunches against it when she imagines Saito's warm smile as she held Shion. Of Akechi's patience when he had helped her up that first time. His friendship, unassuming.

"Don't," she whispers, something clenching in her heart before she's interrupted.

"Look," Shido says, and the silence between them is filled with applause as the television cuts to a familiar face. Akechi smiles on the screen with his hair perfectly brushed, an expression slightly awkward, slightly pleased. Even so, his answers are confident when they ask him about a case or another, and Hinata watches him. Her friend.

 _"So is that why you posted that comment about elderly discrimination?"_ The interviewer was asking, and Akechi laughs in response, before delving into his reply.

 _"I don't think it's an issue that should just be bandied about like politics, Sagawa-san,"_ Akechi replies, hands animated. _"We're a democracy – and that means every single one of us has power. We youth should step up a little on these topics too, shouldn't we?"_

Hinata stares upwards at his face and wonders if Akechi ever noticed how his smiles became less fake when they talked about social change and justice, and not about his hobbies. He's young, and Hinata's not blind. Everyone says he's handsome and he is, in a smooth, calculated sort of way. He's a scholarship student, he's a minor celebrity, he has a career rolled on the red carpet for him to tread, and he's everything Hinata's not but wishes she could be.

She would be resentful, perhaps, if he hadn't proved to be such a good person. That this image had extended to real life as well. If he hadn't been the only one who had extended her a hand when she had crouched for hours in the cold outside that venue, who had told her Shion was not a mistake as long as she didn't think that way. That the future was still full of opportunities, that she was still young.

"Why are you showing me this?" Hinata asks, and Shido smiles.

"I'm glad you asked," he replies in a deep voice that she's disgusted to think she'd once thought as slightly attractive. "Look at these."

There are photographs of their meetings. Outside the unemployment office, them walking down the street together, Shion in her arms. Akechi at the café she worked at, smiling at a cup of coffee she's handing him. Them sitting together outside her current home, Akechi sympathetically listening to her on that one, summer's day. Then they get progressively different. Photoshopped pictures of Akechi handing her money instead of her bag. There are some legitimate sexual photos of herself that she knows Shido took beforehand, but with Akechi inside them.

Hinata wants to vomit. Her hands are shaking, and she's swallowing hard, and it's with one angry arm she swipes all the photographs off the table. They flutter uselessly to the side.

"Imagine," Shido says with dark amusement, unphased by her anger. "The Second Coming of the Detective Prince, cavorting with a sex worker. Perhaps that child is even his, at merely seventeen. He's a common name in Tokyo now, did you know? Once this goes out he won't be able to go outside any more. He'll be a pariah. His internship dashed, his prospects ruined. Universities wouldn't want to take him, his school will revoke his scholarship status…"

 _"What is the catch?"_ Hinata snarls.

"All you need to do is ask a few easy questions for me, Ai-chan," Shido says. "Get their trust and find out a few facts. Tell them stories I've created to them." Shido leans forward, smile a glittering mockery of kindness. "All I want you to do is find Goro Akechi's weakness and use it against him. Tie him to you, so that he's tied to me. How simple is that?"

Hinata first instinct is to shake her head. She may be a lot of things, but she isn't a betrayer. She's never returned kindness with enmity. Hinata Osumi is a woman who gives back what's due, and it's this core that makes her first shake her head in negative.

"Oh?" Shido says. "Truly foolish. You don't understand the consequences of what you're saying right now, Ai-chan. If these photos aren't enough to persuade you, what about this?"

This time Shido slides a few reports onto the table. The text is large and easy to understand, and it's with horror that she realises they're reports from the social workers that visit the centre that she lives in. Reports that say that she _abuses Shion._

"Former sex worker, can't even properly land a job, living on charity," Shido continues to say. "If I add a sex scandal with Akechi, a high schooler, and these abuse reports… don't you think there's a high chance that your son will be taken away?"

"No," Hinata croaks through brick lungs. "People will know it's a lie," she says, looking up at Shido. "The workers in my home, the people in the neighbourhood, all of them know the truth. A-and photoshop can be easily examined and found out," Hinata continues in a desperate rush, and Shido's smirk deepens.

"And do you think they'd care?" Is his callous response. "I own the media, I own the police. With a single signature, I can even own that home you live in," he says with a chuckle. "Do you think anyone will care enough about a former prostitute to stick their head into this mess?"

Hinata curls in on herself because they both know the answer.

Shido gets up and slides the two million yen cheque in front of her face.

"Is your integrity really worth the loss of your son?" Shido leans down to whisper in her ear. "Is it worth the loss of Goro Akechi's bright future as a star detective? You were once a prostitute," Shido continues, voice amused. "Do you even have any integrity?"

How dare, _how dare he_

Hinata claws a hand into Shido's fancy suit, thick fabric in her hands as she hauls him in.

"Coming from _you?_ Shion's your son, and you do, do _this?"_

"Is there any proof he's my son?" Shido asks, utterly unphased as his eyes keep on watching her, like she's an insect, like a clown ready to dance. The bodyguards by the door reach Hinata by then, forcefully wrenching her arms away from Shido and keep on holding her in place as Shido straightens. "With how many clients you must have had, isn't it already charitable of me to pay your first few months of expenses, Ai-chan?"

"My name is _Hinata!"_

Hinata can't breathe through the rattle in her chest, the shaking that's overcome her body. By the time she manages to relax enough to hear over the rush of blood in her ears the television has finished cycling through advertisements and Akechi's program is running again. He's smiling at the hosts on this panel targeting youth activism, and Hinata feels the strength draining from her when she sees it. His eyes are so determined when he talks about injustice. His words spin pretty, but effective on the topics of modern heroism, of Japan's current social landscape, of what youth can do – and he's going to lose all of this because of an obsessed man and her own pride. He's going to lose the potential to change society that she sees in him, broiling underneath that veneer of polite docility. It's her own anger in a better host, in a person who can actually do something about everything they see wrong in the world, and something in her crumbles.

When she looks away, fake photographs of Shion's abuse on the reports make her choke on her next breath, and she's trying her hardest to blink back the tears. The bastard doesn't deserve the satisfaction of her tears. Her tears are for more worthy things. Greater things.

Ah, Shido thinks.

She's broken.

Shido drops the cheque onto the floor gestures to the bodyguards telling them to let go of her. They do, and Hinata slumps. The cheque is right next to a photograph of her and Akechi sitting on the steps of the home. That moment when he told her that Shion wasn't a mistake and Hinata buries her head in her lap.

"The cheque is a one time deal, Ai-chan," Shido says to her. "If you don't accept it… well. I'm sure you understand the consequences. If you do, I don't treat my workers unfairly. I've prepared employment for you as a hotel receptionist to explain your new wealth if you do. Aren't I generous?" Shido muses. "A stable job, millions in riches, all for one measly favour."

The curve of her back is still as elegant as ever, Shido finds himself thinking. It is such a shame – she had been a good favourite to have for a few months. Even now her skin looks smooth and inviting, heaving in breaths like this.

 _"Of course I believe that everyone can stand up in their efforts for social change,"_ Goro Akechi on the television laughs. _"We are a conservative country, but we are also a democracy and a country with high levels of education. Japan has all it needs to be empowered for the future…"_

With trembling fingers, Hinata reaches out and takes the cheque.

Shido smiles.

"A wise decision."

  


* * *

  


"You called for me, Director?" Akechi asks politely as he stands in front of the Director's large desk. Shido and the Director were the same kinds of people – the wide floor to ceiling windows to watch Tokyo from up high, the wide seats and expensive table with no viable seats for reporting

"Attend this court hearing for me," the SIU Director throws him a file the moment he gets close enough while massaging his temples, and Akechi isn't expecting much until he sees the mug shot of the defendant. His eyes widen. "Some punk got in the way of Shido-san's good time and injured him," the SIU Director tells him seriously. "Make sure that judge is doing what's he's supposed to with all the money I'm throwing him."

Akechi's bows.

"I'll be sure to attend the hearing in your stead and check the judge's loyalty, Director."

The Director grunts in reply, and Akechi's heart is flipping in his chest when he strides out from the SIU offices.

Is that why he hadn't heard from Akira for the past week? Was his phone confiscated?

Akira's face stares out at him, eyes intense underneath the fringe, and Akechi's fingers touch the face.

It's time. It's finally time.

He has to travel to a local court for Akira's trial. Out east of Tokyo City, in a larger town than the one Akira lived in, Akechi sees him for the third time in the defendant's box. Akira didn't even have a proper lawyer to stand for him as he confronts all of the judges that Shido has bought over with money with wide, bewildered eyes.

He knows how intimidating a court can be. It's a world of strict tradition, the courthouse designed to awe as a spectacle as much as for intimidation. The silence is oppressive, every dropped pen a miscalculation, every whisper heard from the other side of the room.

There is no-one on Akira's side the moment he steps out.

Akira, who loudly proclaims he's innocent to a whole panel of unsympathetic jury members.

Akira, who had unshed tears of shock in his eyes when he's nearly dragged away from the ultimate verdict.

_"A year of probation."_

Holding a copy of the official recordings of the whole proceeding in his hands, Akechi smiles.

The game is finally beginning.

  


* * *

  
  


A red eye blinks.

  
  


_Indeed._

  


* * *

  


"Akechi," Naho calls suddenly, on a bright winter's morning. “Mitarai-san?” Akechi asks into the phone, but he’s already alert just by hearing the rhythm of Naho’s breath. She’s breathing in harsh breaths as if she’s running. The noise in the background isn’t the calm tones of the office, it’s the sound of traffic from the outside. 

“Atsuzawa’s been shot,” Naho says, and something in Akechi’s chest freezes. 

No. _Breathe._

“How so?” Akechi manages to reply calmly, already walking briskly towards the exit. His attaché case in hand, he’s soon standing in front of Headquarters. 

“He was lucky,” Naho says, and she enters somewhere quieter. “The shot just missed his lungs, but they say he was brought in with some severe blood loss. It took a while for the ambulance to get to where he was, even though he was just getting food for lunch at the convenience store.” 

“Which hospital?” 

Naho doesn’t name Takaki’s hospital – Atsuzawa was taken to a much fancier private hospital instead, and Akechi flags down a taxi. When he arrives, he opens the door to find that Atsuzawa already has a visitor. 

“You idiot,” the other man was berating the still figure on the bed. “I told you to get out of Tokyo for a reason!” 

When Akechi steps through the doorway, the man immediately whirls around. The face is plain, black hair and black eyes, but for some reason, the face still twinges somewhat familiar. The other man, however, obviously recognises him. His face immediately turns into a scowl. 

"You dare come here," the man advances on Akechi, bunching his collar in his fist, "when this is your fault?" 

"...Who are you?" Akechi says calmly, meeting the other man's eyes. 

"Atsuzawa's cousin, Fusatsune," the man replies. "I'm also one of Shido's agents, and unlike _you_ I was trying to keep my family _safe_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the pacing guys aaaaaah. I struggled with this, there's still 3 scenes I wanted to put in for pacing reasons, but it got too long. @_@ please forgive me. Intense time-skipping is hard, I'm so glad I don't have to do this again. I might have to tweak and edit this a tonne i feel like i skipped a lot but im tired  
> People liked Hinata so much that I was like owo. Yeah, sorry guys, she's not tied up to Saito's quest line as much as she's actually tied to Shido's. If I was naming themes for each of the Arcanas, Wakaba is discovery, Minato is friendship, Atsuzawa is Justice, and Hinata would be... betrayal+ consequences? Cos Akechi was also a betrayer. Hinata was Shido's plan all along, and he's not uh, gonna stop here. Akechi's a little too interesting now, you see.  
> Thank you very much for all your support last chapter! Your comments give me life and so many ideas! Like, Akechi being there for Akira's arrest was so tempting? Imagine that drama, gosh. I just couldn't find a reason for Shido to bring Akechi out of Tokyo on a trip like that, so I had to stick to the normal idea. My goal for this chapter was to cover Hinata + get to P5 beginning anyways. I'll... squeeze everything into the next chapter.  
> But yeah, Shido's a dick.  
> See you next week! :D Sorry for any horrible grammar, I'll edit throughout the week


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, since the game is starting (technically) just gonna note that it'll have Royal stuff in it til the end. So if you don't want spoilers, please come back later after finishing the game or something :D

It's strangely relieving to face someone so openly hostile. Akechi finds himself in familiar territory when he faces Fusatsune, black eyes staring at Akechi in anger. He's no-where near the beanpole that Atsuzawa is, all exaggerated long lines and angular profile. Fusatsune is shorter than Akechi, barely scraping 170 centimetres, with black hair cut unassuming and a face that's rounder like an office-worker. He's exceedingly normal, despite the fact that Akechi might see a bit of Atsuzawa's face in the eyebrows, the tip of the nose.

"Safe? By being Shido's agent?" Akechi replies with a hint of incredulous disdain, ignoring the chokehold on his shirt and Fusatsune narrows his eyes.

"Yes, and it would've worked if it wasn't for _you_. I told him to leave for Kyoto long ago, last year even, and he told me no because he's taking care of some new upstart kid. A kid I've told him repeatedly is _not what he seems_."

And if it wasn't for me, Takaki would be dead and Atsuzawa a hollow shell of who he once was, Akechi can't help but think, unimpressed, staring down at this other man. What worth is his protection if it became something like that?

A bit of his derision slides onto his face, a hint of Loki's mocking smirk touching because who does he think he is? Akechi is not the type to lie down and take accusations when it doesn't serve a greater purpose and Fusatsune's hands clench tighter when he reads Akechi's expression.

It's a hospital. No-one would take the words of an adult man who was laying hands on a minor.

That's when Naho slams the door open.

"What are you doing, Fusa?!" She demands loudly, storming forward to wrench Fusatsune's hands out of Akechi's collar.

It's interesting to see how there's a shutter that immediately slams down on Fusatsune's face because when he turns towards Naho there's already a façade of calmness in his expression.

"Naho, we were just having a… disagreement."

Akechi narrows his eyes before he makes himself look slightly pitiful.

"I was just stepping through the door, Mitarai-san," he says with a plaintive note, and Naho's expression tightens as she whirls on Fusatsune.

"You're the adult here, Fusa, and you're in a hospital! Whatever disagreement you're having doesn't mean that you start throwing hands!"

Naho's breathing furiously, and when Fusatsune catches sight of Akechi's mocking smile behind Naho's back, his vision obviously tunnels.

"You little shitty two-faced—" Fusatsune starts gritting out.

"Enough." Says a raspy voice that wouldn't be out of place in a horror movie. It's the direction of where the voice comes that has all three of them freezing.

The utterly sleep-deprived eyes of Atsuzawa look at all three of them in the room looking very unimpressed, and the three of them do their own version of smoothing out skirts, looking away with a glare, or coughing lightly in a curled hand.

"I've been listening to you all for the past few minutes working up enough saliva to say something," Atsuzawa rasps out, and Naho wordlessly goes near him and pours water into a sippy cup that's placed beside him. After a few sips, Atsuzawa's voice regains a bit of its quality. "All three of you are being stupid. Fusa, you're picking a fight with a literal teen. Naho, don't yell in a hospital. Akechi, don't egg things on."

"My deepest apologies for disturbing you, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies first, and nope, Atsuzawa definitely noticed that the apology wasn't directed in any way towards his cousin when he shoots Akechi a wry look that held all the intonations of _'really'?_

"Zane," Fusatsune starts, hands balled into fists, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"I know what you're going to say and I'm not going to hear it. Out, all of you," Atsuzawa croaks, shooing both Fusatsune and Naho out the door. "I need to talk to Akechi for a bit."

Fusatsune looked like he was going to take it with ill-grace until Naho hooks an elbow around his arm and drags him out. Akechi's left standing in the fancy hospital room stilling his emotions and adjusting his body language – was he going to go for supportive? Face Atsuzawa with a placating smile? When Atsuzawa sighs.

"C'mere kid." When Akechi looks up, Atsuzawa is patting one pale hand onto the bedding next to him, and Akechi follows. He doesn't follow the unspoken request to sit on his bed – instead, he drags a visitor's chair a little closer and settles next to where his hand is instead. When he looks up at Atsuzawa's sharp face, the edges of his expression a little softer from only just waking up from blood loss, he sees a tired lopsided smile. "Sorry, Akechi. This was my fault, not yours. Don't listen to my cousin, he's smart but also super dumb."

If he had ever been someone to cry from sadness, or panic, or fear, this might be the time to leak out a few tears under Atsuzawa's patient gaze when both their eyes trail downwards to the thick wad of bandages that peek out from the sleeve of his hospital gown.

But Akechi had never been and looking at those bandages gives him a calmness that settles over him like a blanket. Resolve. When he meets Atsuzawa's eyes next, not bothering to paste on any expression at all, Atsuzawa chuffs a harsh bark of laughter.

"I didn't realise the newest suspect in that ring of debtors was one of the names on your list until it was too late," Atsuzawa admits. "To be fair, his name was Yamamoto Tanaka, but I should've still double-checked. I guess me interrogating him was that one-too-many you warned me about. Sorry, kid. I made you worry."

Akechi clenches his hands, feeling the leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles when he watches Atsuzawa try to laugh his injury away.

"Atsuzawa-san, I think you should listen to your cousin."

Atsuzawa blinks at Akechi's words before he frowns into something more calculating.

"Why do you say that, Akechi?"

"You'll be safe in Kyoto," Akechi lays it out, looking back up at Atsuzawa's eyes. "Fusatsune was right when he said I painted much too big of a target on your shoulders. We disrupted his plans, but your name is the one that keeps being reported, the number one cause that's stopping Shido's plans."

And without the immediate need to be petty, Fusatsune hadn't been wrong.

Today, Atsuzawa was shot because of him.

"Then you'll be under the Director without me there, Akechi," is Atsuzawa's first response.

"I'll be fine," Akechi replies because he knows it's true. Shido and the SIU Director have a whole line of enquiries that they want him to make as Detective Prince, not to mention his status as a Metaverse diver. His life and reputation are, at least right now, sacrosanct. "They will not touch me, but they can, and they will try to find ways to make me more indebted."

Atsuzawa falls silent then. The other detective has never been someone ruled by pride, but it must sting some to be told by your teenage former intern that he's now become a burden.

There's no offense in Atsuzawa's expression though, as he watches Akechi. Akechi doesn't really know how to read it, and he fights the urge to fold into himself when he continues. Atsuzawa is a sentimental man, despite his harsh look, and Akechi isn't above playing dirty.

"I once contacted another to help me," Akechi admits to the hospital window and the grey, cloudy day beyond. "We were friends. She was already a target, and even though I put in my best efforts… I couldn't save her. Not entirely. I do not wish to see that happen again—"

It's a surprise that Atsuzawa's arm – long, thin and wiry – has enough strength to wind around Akechi's head and pull forward, interrupting him mid-sentence. Akechi finds himself blinking against the blue hospital shirt, forehead on a bony bit of Atsuzawa's shoulder. It's not particularly comfortable.

"No-one's blaming you, kid," Atsuzawa says, voice scratchy, and Akechi breathes in and smells the bittersweet brand of Atsuzawa's cigarettes.

"That's not the issue," Akechi says, voice now muffled with the shirt, and Atsuzawa huffs.

"Sure it isn't, you literal teenager. You shouldn't have to deal with all of this, you know? You should be chasing girls and playing around with your parent's money and thinking about what you wanna do for uni. Seventeen is supposed to be stupid, but here you are. I wanted to help you, but it just seems like I added another burden on you, huh?"

His palm is big and warm on the back of his head. Akechi distantly notes that before he sits up, careful to not jostle the other man.

"No, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says. "You helped. And you will help even more by continuing to live."

Akechi takes a moment to fiddle with the inside seam of his jacket, the tiny hole that he now pushes a small button out. It's the button Atsuzawa gave him when they reached Rank 10, and the both of them look at the small metallic button gleaming on the smooth leather of his gloved hand. After a second Akechi puts it back into his coat, and Atsuzawa looks back at him with his lips pressed into an unhappy line.

"Kyoto," Atsuzawa says in resignation, and Akechi nods.

"The mastermind will not be bothered to reach you there. His influence there is minimal compared to Tokyo, and he is in the critical process of stabilising Tokyo as his absolute base of operations anyway," Akechi replies. There's a moment then when Atsuzawa waves a hand for the small cup of water on the side table.

"You sure you can't come with me?" Atsuzawa rasps out after a few sips.

That question hits something in his heart that he catches and carefully tucks away. It's where he keeps the night-time memory of Wakaba on the rooftop asking him to join Sojiro and Futaba for ice-cream. It's Minato, looking deep in his eyes when he asked if he wanted a second chance. It's Akira, whispering an assent to the last request of his betrayer, and Akechi's hands are still tightly clenched when he shakes his head in reply.

"It's not a boast to say I am irreplaceable in the current state of the conspiracy, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies. "I also have plans in place that I can only achieve in Tokyo. I appreciate the offer, but I cannot go."

Atsuzawa sighs, a deeply unhappy sound.

"I'd say call me anytime, but you're not gonna, are you?" Atsuzawa says, eyes in a resigned sort of understanding that makes Akechi wants to inexplicably look away. Instead, he bears it when Atsuzawa lays a hand on his hair and ruffles it without its usual strength. Akechi doesn't bother making the token protest when he leaves his hair messy.

He's injured, after all. Akechi shouldn't make it harder on him.

"You're probably thinking something like 'If I contact Atsuzawa-san it'll make it obvious to anyone that he's more involved than he looks' or something, right?"

"But it's not an inaccurate assumption, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies. "The conspiracy has a major technological company under its thumb, with major sway in information and communication technology in particular. That's without mentioning the fact my father has been taking increased interest in me lately. My paranoia is not entirely unjustified."

Atsuzawa gives him a deep look before lets his head plonk back onto his pillows.

"Akechi, call Fusa back in. Only Fusa, if Naho wants to come in too just ask for some privacy."

"Do you want me to leave as well?"

Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"No. Call Fusa in and stay here."

Akechi does so, but he hardly has to open the door before he sees Fusatsune standing suspiciously close to the door, his face much more complicated than before when he looks at Akechi.

"Heh, eavesdropper. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Come in, Fusa," Atsuzawa laughs, and Fusatsune slides past Akechi to stand next to his cousin's bed.

"What is it, Zane?"

"I'll agree to go to Kyoto on one condition." Atsuzawa points at Fusa, before pointing it to Akechi. "You take care of Akechi in my place."

Akechi blinks in surprise, from his place next to the door.

Fusa does more than blink.

" _What?!_ " Fusa growls, face furrowing. "Okay, maybe I misjudged the kid and didn't realise he was more yours than that band of old corrupted fuckers, but that doesn't mean I'm next in line for babysitting duty!"

"Me, in Kyoto, keeping my life?" Atsuzawa says blandly. "Or you, denying help to an innocent kid, your dearest cousin dying mysteriously the next month because I stayed in Tokyo?"

"Hah! Innocent," Fusa scoffs. "You really don't have a clue, do you?" Atsuzawa seems to know what he's doing, however, as his dead fish gaze makes Fusa hunch a little before he breaks into a scowl. "Ugh, alright Zane, you owe me big. I'll take care of him. And that also means you're going to Kyoto the second you recover, you got that?"

Without waiting for Atsuzawa's reply, Fusatsune wheels around and faces Akechi.

"I'm not that great with kids," Fusa looks critically at him, "nearly grown or not. But I don't mind being a point of contact for you in Tokyo or teaching you a few tricks here and there for the not-so-above board stuff Zane will never be able to teach." When Akechi doesn't react negatively to that, he nods. "Also, we need to get on the same page regarding the conspiracy so I understand where the fuck you stand. One minute you're some loyal doggish right-hand-man, and next minute you're all buddy-buddy with my cousin?"

"Fusa," Atsuzawa warns from the bed, and Fusatsune huffs but relents.

"That's all for now. I'll keep an eye for you and try my best to keep you safe. If you end up being trustworthy, I'll even share my info. And I, Fusatsune Tsuchihashi never break my word. Deal?"

Fusatsune's expression is the very face of reluctance with a backbone of determination, and Akechi bows.

"Please take care of me, Tsuchihashi-san."

"Fuck no, call me Fusa," is Fusa's reply, and in the background with Atsuzawa's slightly approving smile comes the voice.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Hanged Man** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

"That's that. Akechi, gimme your phone… Here you go. Contact me through that," Fusa gives back his phone with a contact saved underneath Hatake Tobe. "One of my other identities, no-one will give a crap. Before Zane forces me into more stuff like watching his dogs I'm going to go out. Bye."

Fusa stalks out the door, taking a moment before he exits to visibly calm himself. It's impressive how quickly his face changes from something irate to a face that seems practically scholarly as he opens to door.

"I told you, Naho, everything's fine, I was just stressed seeing Zane like that. I have to go back to work now, see you. It was lovely meeting you, Akechi-kun. Get well soon, Zane. Bye."

With that Fusa stalks off, and Atsuzawa watches his cousin leave with an amused twitch of his lips.

"Whatever his first impression was," Atsuzawa says to Akechi. "It might be cheating to tell you this, but there's no-one I trust more. He's a prickly pear to know, but he's also the type to fight tooth and nail for the things he loves. Give him a chance?"

Despite all of this unexpected drama which led him to gain an extra Arcana even, Akechi hasn't forgotten that he's visiting the hospital, Atsuzawa literally just got shot an hour or so ago, and he's convalescing.

"Of course I will, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, smooth as butter. "Anyone you trust is someone I can extend my trust to as well."

 _'I'm also Shido's agent,'_ rings in Akechi's mind, and he provides Atsuzawa with the smile he reserves for the most frustrating of his tutees after school when he's explained a question four different ways and his classmate still hasn't gotten it. It's a smile that charmed his teacher to let him walk straight out of school once, in all its unassuming gentility.

Atsuzawa has that look again like he's seen right through Akechi's smooth-talking ways, but he huffs in that same way all the same.

"Good, that's all I can ask."

"And all I can ask if that you get better soon and leave for Kyoto, Atsuzawa-san."

Week after week he sees Wakaba's still Shadow lying there, pale, wavering, sometimes near transparent. She's still and cold and unmoving. He licks his lips, hesitating.

"Please live."

Atsuzawa's smile is melancholic at the request. He's always been one of the louder campaigners for Akechi's seeming youth, giving him breaks, asking about his opinions on current trends like he's a walking gospel for the 'the opinion of teenagers' and acknowledging his inexperience whenever a new case pops up. Akechi knows he's probably thinking, _this shouldn't be a request someone this young should be making._

"Of course, kiddo." He replies, and Akechi nods with resolution. Stands up and walks away, and they both know that this will be the last time in many months that Akechi will see him. Akechi will not visit too often, in case Shido is watching.

Before he entirely leaves the room, Atsuzawa calls out in a low voice.

"No matter what, you can call me. Even if its years later, or you just need a place to crash or escape, find me. Got it?"

The bond thrums in Akechi's mind.

"I know, Atsuzawa-san. Thank you."

He doesn't look back as he steps out, bowing to Naho before walking down the hallway. There's something that feels like it'll spill if he pauses to discriminate what's happening, and that's just not what anyone needs right now. He fills his nose with the smell of disinfectant instead and watches harried-looking nurses in scrubs bustling in and out of rooms.

Akechi takes that feeling and does the familiar – he transforms it into anger, and from anger, hatred that it became like this, at himself for being weak, at Shido.

  


* * *

  


"Yep, every time there's one of those coma incidents that gauge on that machine of yours shoots up," Futaba chats into her headset as her fingers fly over the keyboard. The voice-changing program makes her voice a nice deep baritone, something she'd tweaked after being told the preset voice mixer was jarring. She kinda liked sounding like a super buff macho man. "What, how'd I find the data? I'm the great Alibaba! I set up a small bug in the device so that it'll send me the data anytime, anywhere!"

After a small silence, Futaba huffs. "No, I haven't found a link yet, but I will! And stop getting distracted, you're petting your cat again, aren't you?"

The sound of meowing abruptly stops in her ears, when a calm voice replies, as matter of fact as can be.

"No, you're having auditory hallucinations."

It only takes a few more commands before Futaba is watching Yu Narukami from the camera on his laptop, and how his face is deadpan even as he slowly slides the cat off his lap onto the floor. It gives a slightly unhappy _meow_ at being shoved from it's resting place on his lap and in reply there's an immediate, serious, slight frown on Narukami's face when he hears it. Yes, it's a beautiful and rare male calico cat, with fur that made Futaba sometimes wish she could pinch in its cheeks and fluffy in all the right ways – but did Narukami really have to treat his cat's whims and the impending Meta Incidents of Tokyo with the same level of gravity?

"I am _not_ , I can see Cali walking out the doorway from here."

"Although I know you are a great and mighty world-class cracker, I have to inform you that stalking is not a great past-time," Narukami replies, face not twitching even a little as he looks straight at the camera. "I know I'm good-looking, but you should refrain from peeping so often. I might become shy."

…

Futaba wants to slam her head onto her keyboard.

"What do the girls on your team see in you?!" she asks her ceiling, swivelling her chair in circles that she can obviously do because these headphones are Bluetooth and don't have wires. Sojiro totally got suspicious last time when her spinning unplugged her headphones from her computer while she had set her speakers to the max. She wanted to hear her favourite seiyuu in her bones okay don't judge but then that had led to Narukami's voice broadcasting super loud and making Sojiro come up the stairs with a suspicious squint.

Sojiro had, with creases in his forehead, sat her down at the dinner table and awkwardly started talking about _boys_.

Futaba wanted to die.

Die.

Melt in a puddle. Run into her closet and disappear for a week. Forget Sojiro ever spouting the words, _'Uh, Futaba, have you covered… sex-ed in class yet?'_

Narukami, the source of all her problems, treats her question seriously. Futaba wonders if he's trolling. If he's in Tokyo University studying something as difficult as veterinary science, then he's obviously extremely intelligent, right?

"That's an easy question to answer," Narukami answers. His voice is serious, his face as deadpan as ever. He raises a hand to adjust glasses that aren't there, and looks over the camera in a way that allows him to look slightly mysterious.

"It's because I'm cool."

"…You're really not," Futaba cuts him down.

"That's quite mean, Alibaba-san," Narukami replies, his voice a tone that showed he didn't care at all. "You've hurt my feelings. Please let me pet my cat to recover."

"Let's get back to those coma patients," Futaba replies, examining the firewalls of the government again while she's at it. "You only have to set up a few more devices, and we have most of Tokyo covered to know where Metaverse activity is happening."

"Alright," Narukami says, his demeanour shifting into one of focus that might, _might_ , from the corner of Futaba's eye look cool if he wasn't such a massive dork the other eighty percent of the time. "To reiterate, the coma incidents aren't affecting the world on the scale of Apathy Syndrome, and more akin to our incident in Inaba. The sensors Aigis gave us to measure Metaverse activity is confirming that someone is accessing whatever form the collective unconsciousness is manifesting. The only confirmed person who can do that is the man you've told us to find – GA."

Futaba pouts, slouching in her chair. "I know it looks really bad, but I swear GA would never willingly do something like that. It's the hidden boss forcing him."

Narukami's expression is calm when he looks straight into the camera at Futaba. "I have learnt the truth is often more elusive than thought, though it is also unwise to turn away in denial."

"If GA really is willingly doing it, I'll smack him and make him stop," Futaba says then, and Narukami has a slight smile on his face.

"I'm glad you're listening to your Metanormal senpai," he says, deadpan, and Futaba whacks her table.

"Don't you hear my deep, sexy, manly voice, Narukami?! I'm a bona fide macho black guy with chiselled muscles and an eight-pack! I'm like, fifty years old! I'm not just your father, I'm your grandfather!"

"I have an eight-pack too," is Narukami's flat reply. "Believe me when I say I'm very strong. It makes the girls swoon."

When Futaba doesn't answer in the next five seconds because she's seriously going to hyperventilate in, she didn't know, in sheer troll energy, Narukami adds.

"Please don't shame my confidence in my masculinity."

Futaba cuts the call.

  


* * *

  


There's fear in Haru's face the next time he sees her, right before winter break. Her usually pleasant face is pinched and strained, and she holds no homework. Kunikazu places enough importance on Haru's outer appearance that she's provided with the highest quality skincare and beauty products available, so the fact that she's sporting slight eye bags is concerning.

Although she's wearing a beautiful lavender dress, she's holding no purse or handbag today. There's no sign of the homework that they chat over or any promised boxes of her hand-grown vegetables.

These are warning signs that Akechi doesn't take for granted. He straightens up, adjusting his cufflinks and making sure that all his accessories are in place.

"Akechi-kun," Haru says, and her voice quavers. She looks upset, even though she's applied an extra layer of make-up that she usually doesn't. Her lips redder, her eyeshadow a heavier shade. "We might not be able to meet any more. I'm so sorry, you were the first true friend I've had here. It's truly not your fault, it's entirely mine. Please blame me if you wish."

She bows, and Akechi steps forward, concern not entirely feigned.

"Haru-san, is there something I can help with—"

"Step back," says a voice in a tone Akechi knows too well. It's the condescension of someone who sees themselves above others, and he looks to the right to see a young man in a white suit flanked by two bodyguards. He's holding a glass of champagne in hand, face arrogant as he looked down his nose at Akechi in front of him. "She's telling you that she doesn't want you around anymore."

Haru bites her lip as she looks down at the ground. Her fists are clenched, but she doesn't resist when Sugimura places a hand around her shoulders and pulls her close.

"Who even are you to become friends with the prime lady of Okumura Foods?" The tall man sneers, taking a sip of his champagne.

Akechi isn't cowed, and bows, perfectly polite.

"My name is Goro Akechi. It's nice to meet you."

When he stands straight, he's obviously not what Sugimura expects. It's easy to know what type of person Sugimura is – the type to enjoy trampling on the weak, announcing his wealth and status to gain other's respect and validation. Akechi's seen him before, sticking around members who are all a little shorter than him, a little uglier, poorer, while he has a beautiful woman on his arm paid to only stare at him.

Akechi objectively knows he is good looking – his mother's delicate features, good self-care and well-fitted clothing make heads turn. He's confident, polite, and he doesn't care to provide any flaws for Sugimura's perusal when he provides his best bland politician's smile. By anyone's vote of confidence, Akechi knows that he ranks higher in all the ways that Sugimura cares for.

Sugimura isn't pleased, mouth pinching, and Akechi laughs lightly.

"And may I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

"I'm Sugimura, and that's all you need to know," Sugimura sneers. "I'm also this lovely little lady's fiancé, and after a brief talk, we've agreed that her private little chats with another man are highly unbecoming. Isn't that right, Haru-chan?" Sugimura bends down to talk in Haru's ear, and she barely hides a flinch.

That's right, Akechi thinks. He hadn't known exactly when Haru gained a fiancé, but it had been cursorily explained to him that the Phantom Thieves had gone after Kunikazu Okumura instigated not because of his terrible WHS policies, but because Haru needed to escape from her fiancé.

It had been such a minor detail that he hadn't placed it into importance until now.

"Haru-san?" Akechi turns to Haru, and he doesn't know what he expects. Something more than the downtrodden look of resignation maybe. Something more akin to Noir underneath her musketeer's hat, a poorly hidden grin of satisfaction when she gunned down her enemies.

"Yes," she replies reluctantly, "Sugimura-san is my fiancé now, Akechi-kun. Both he and my father have told me that I shouldn't do anything that may cause unsavoury rumours to happen, for me or… for you."

 _You'd just go with this?_ Something in Akechi snarls. _You're not going to step up and fight for what you want? You're going to lay down and take it like a pathetic, beaten dog?_

Haru Okumura stands silently underneath the arm of her newly acquired fiancé, eyes to the floor, fists still clenched and shaking and Akechi is surprisingly disappointed.

The Phantom Thieves were good for her. Had given her a way to not disappoint her father, had fanned her flames of rebellion.

But here, she didn't have that. Unpleasant marriage is something she's willing to accept, so accept it she does. To do so, she is going to toss him away.

Haru doesn't meet his eyes when Akechi laughs. He smothers the sting with pleasantry.

"I would never wish to intrude on the affairs of a couple," Akechi says, tilting his head and letting his voice shade back into the sweet tones that he'd dropped with Haru for the past few months. She recognises the shift and Haru tenses, and she blinks rapidly. Only last week she had been excited, talking about inviting Akechi to Shujin's school festival this year, saying it was a dream of hers to attend with friends. "It was lovely to be your friend, Haru-san," and Akechi watches her flinch with a little satisfaction. "I'll take my leave."

He passes Sugimura, and when he does he pauses.

"One last thing," he says, and he places his hand over Sugimura's on Haru's arm. And with a strength that obviously surprises Sugimura, with how his eyes widen over Akechi's feigned gentility, the hand slides upwards to cup Haru's shoulder so that his fingers weren't skimming her chest. "Don't want any unsavoury rumours now, do we, Sugimura-san?"

His smile is a knife's edge.

Before the man could spout something – considering his type, probably about how much money he has, or who his father was – Akechi swiftly left the small alcove where he had been waiting.

No reason to stay late at these dinners any more, Akechi sighs as he returns to Shido's secondary circle of goons, dismissing himself with another round of fake laughter and polite civilities.

**Empress Rank 3 - Haru Okumura**

  


* * *

  


_Wednesday. Sunny's Karaoke. Booth 15. Shinjuku Red Light District. 7:15PM._

That's all Hatake Tobe sends as a text, and after reading it the message automatically deletes itself. Akechi arrives approximately then, changed out of his school uniform and wearing a horrible knitted sweater that draws attention to all the parts of Akechi that's not Detective Prince material.

He materialises out of the Metaverse just in time to see Fusa himself entering the Karaoke, looking like any other mild Japanese man as he talks to the staff.

After a few minutes, Akechi follows. He excuses himself with an 'I'm with a friend. Booth 15?' and follows the staff member that leads him there after he pays.

Fusa greets him with a large, welcoming smile and the staff nod him in before closing the door tightly behind them. Everything is suddenly muffled silence, the unfortunate screeching voice of a woman in the room next to them trying to reach notes too high for her voice, and Fusa's grin drops like a tonne of rocks.

"Zane's out of Tokyo now," is the first thing he says, and Akechi accepts that with a swallow and a small nod as he sits down. "Organisational Crime Unit has been mostly disbanded. Zane was running a skeleton crew here anyway, he was clinging on in sheer stubbornness for the past year."

"If you're here to blame me, I will leave in advance," Akechi says, and Fusa snorts.

"Believe me, you'll know if I was blaming you. No, I'm here to talk things out like we promised. I can't trust you like Zane does until I do. If I find your answers satisfactory, I swear I'll tell you my side of the story."

Fusa's eyes are direct and strong. Atsuzawa looked strong on the outside but was a mild, lazy noodle on the inside. It seems like Fusa was the opposite – a person more like Akechi, a nice façade on the outside all jagged edges underneath.

"I'm not stupid," Fusa has a lot of energy when he sits down, hands twitching feet tapping. "There's something between you and Shido, and I need to know what."

Fusa in a public space had seemed the perfect, genial Japanese man, slightly subservient with words that were filled with vague, unspecified promises to any topic. In private, he's a tensed up ball of _emotion_. There's an explosiveness underneath his skin, and his expression is always somewhat set in some sort of scowl.

Akechi hesitates. Not even Atsuzawa directly knew that Shido was his father.

The other man is looking vaguely irritated when he pulls a piece of paper from the bag he held and put it on the small table in the middle.

"Okay, I'll give you one more chance. This is why I need to know why you're one of the very, very few people that Shido lets into his apartment, other than his various lady hoes. There are exactly ten people that Shido lets in," Fusa draws a quick diagram. "One is his housekeeper, and he's had her since his dad's era. She's paid well, comes from Thailand, is an old close-mouthed bugger that doesn't know Japanese well. Three are bodyguards, and they're loyal to Shido because he's nurtured them like his own babies. He gives them high salaries, free training, food, and even arranged marriages for some of them. That's how far up his butthole these bodyguards are, so they're safe."

Fusa lists them all out on the left under STAFF, before moving on. Under PARTNERS, he quickly sketches three names Akechi knows well. The IT President, the President of a TV Station, his most treasured noble contact.

"These three are in high cahoots, and if one falls a whole stack of people fall with them, so Shido likes entertaining these three once in a while," Fusa says before moving on.

Fusa is deliberately making eye contact with Akechi when he writes the next subsection.

AGENTS

"There's me," Fusa says, writing his name down. Fusatsune Tsuchihashi. "I'm the highest guy Shido managed to get under our government's official intelligence agency. I manage internal intelligence on sensitive topics I can't tell you about, and I train spies on the side. Shido roped me in after he threatened my family, and he kept his promise on _not touching them_ until you came along."

Akechi blinks, letting the resentful tone wash over him. Was that why Shido never touched Atsuzawa's family in the past? Not because they were intimidating?

"Next is this guy. He's an A-Grade asshole, and he lurks in the underground. He's an intelligence worker, lurks in the yakuza and the gangs. I tell my spies to contact him sparingly because even I think he's disgusting, and I've seen a lot in my work. Everyone just calls him by his title 'Danna'."

"And out of all of these impressive people," Fusa says, eyeing him. "There's you. Random fifteen-year-old high-schooler. Calls you up near every week until it stops, and even then any report that has your name holds twice as much attention from him than anyone else's. A few months later, cognitive psience researchers – a field Shido has been splurging money on for _years_ , drop and disappear like flies. Wakaba Ishikki, a woman that Shido miraculously bothers respecting, goes into a coma. And all that attention is now on _you."_

Fusa scowls.

"And guess what? Suddenly Shido is culling his herd – information from who-knows-where cutting some of my sources of insider info. Suddenly major opponents are dropping into unexplained comas that, oh wait, have no known source. It's like their _cognition_ suddenly shut down. And Shido suddenly pays attention to you a lot more. See my point?"

Fusa's relentless train of logic stops, and he's now staring at Akechi. His focus is intense, like a hawk staring at something in the distance that even their formidable eyesight couldn't identify if it was potential prey or danger.

Akechi sighs and breathes in the smell of cheap cleaner. The woman from next door hasn't finished screeching.

"Shido's my father."

Fusa's eyes widen.

"Yes, I've achieved what the cognitive pscientists were trying to do. I cause the comas, but that was my joint effort with Wakaba Ishikki. She developed a chemical formula that I can inject into their cognitive equivalent that makes them go into a coma and out of Shido's way so I could avoid murder on my hands. I also have a coma reawakening agent that I'm planning to use when I find enough on Shido to indict him under law."

Akechi says this candidly, while Fusa has quickly overcome his surprise.

"Show me proof," Fusa demands, and Akechi complies.

He stays half a minute in a darker, lifeless and silent version of the karaoke room before returning, right where he'd been. When he rematerializes, Fusa had just closed the door and turned back at him.

"I just went to a cognitive version of our world," Akechi explains. "In there are cognitive versions of each of us, including you. If I kill that Shadow, the person dies in real life as well. Shido doesn't know that – he thinks I can only make them go comatose. Furthermore, Shadows don't lie, so if there's any unexplainable information Shido knows, it's because of that."

Fusa swallows.

"Does Zane know?"

"No," Akechi replies, dry. "For one, Atsuzawa-san was already at high risk for being my mentor. Second, he didn't indicate any knowledge or background in cognitive psience, so I just told him I was sucked into the conspiracy because of my father."

"Fuck," Fusa swears, sitting down heavily on a worn leather chair and raking his fingers through his black hair. "No-one else can do what you do, obviously or Shido wouldn't care so much. That's why you're irreplaceable."

Hardly.

"You want to take down Shido?" Fusa says after he'd thought it through, looking up at Akechi. "But he's your father?"

"He killed my mother."

"Ah," Fusa grimaces. "That'll do. He's the sort of guy who probably thinks a condom is a finger puppet. So Shido is tying you down with your emancipation, right? I processed those papers. What else? Wealth? Be careful, he'll try for more soon if it's just that. I'd know," Fusa says darkly, as he folds the paper on the table and places it back into his bag.

"Okay, I'll take you on," Fusa says, eyeing Akechi up and down. "I'll train you up a bit too since I'm at it. Get you a fake ID so you can go places without Shido tracking you. Did you know that Shido is still watching you?"

"It would be surprising if he didn't," Akechi replies. "He's afraid I'll turn my powers on him."

" _Can_ you neck him?" Fusa asks with a tone of unholy interest, and Akechi shakes his head. He'd already checked Shido's Palace – an alarming amount of security checks and alarms were already in place, not discounting the fact that currently, no-one held an invite that led higher into the Palace.

"Then I'll promise you this, right now. I can guarantee you one day out of every week that you'll be free to do whatever you want. Got it? I'm a busy guy but tell me when you want a free day and I'll arrange it. Half of your surveillance cycle comes from me."

"That's rather generous of you, Fusa-san," Akechi says with genuine surprise, and Fusa snorts in derision.

"I'm not a man afraid to admit his mistakes. I misjudged you. Should've known, Zane always had a good eye for this sort of thing. But do I trust you? Not really. That'll be proved later on."

There's determination in Fusa's eye when he forgoes a bow and sticks out a hand to Akechi. When he shakes it, it's a strong and warm handshake, and Fusa nods at him sharply before leaving the karaoke room.

**Hanged Man Rank 2 – Fusatsune Tsuchihashi**

  


* * *

  


December is greeted with a horrific traffic accident, as a bus careens into an alleyway right next to a restaurant full of people eating lunch. The driver was comatose on the scene, with another two near-fatal injuries and near twenty something more wounded. Recovery would be slow.

January welcomes a New Year that had a train driver fall asleep, stepping on the accelerator before it violently derailed. Thankfully it was late at night, and everyone had minor injuries with no fatalities, even though infrastructure was ruined and required a few million in repair costs.

 _"There is growing dissatisfaction towards the Transport Minister, who has repeatedly told the media that investigations are ongoing. Little is known about the actual investigative processes however, and relatives of the victims are demanding more transparency for justice to be served."_ The news reporter states.

Akechi looks at these and asks himself, quietly, if this will one day make him a murderer anyway.

Something stirs in his mind.

**_Is this all your determination for Justice amounts to?_ **

It's a voice that, when Akechi reaches back, is dormant again, but when Akechi examines Morrigan and Robin, he feels that there's… another edge.

Perhaps. Another spark.

  


* * *

  


He gets a phone call when the clouds are still filled with ice and snow, and he doesn't hesitate to pick it up when he sees it's from Akira. His breath fogs as he walks down the streets of Tokyo with Akira's voice in his ear. There's a hard, near unfeeling edge that bleeds into his voice that he has never heard from Akira, who he knows tends to like softer topics like flowers and likes to makes every word count. Akechi listens to his story after a few pleasantries – of the woman's attack, of the courthouse trial, of being ignored by his parents ever since. His schoolmates have found out about the trial and distanced themselves. The bakery he worked at has stopped giving him shifts. He explains that his parents took away his phone for a while, and he only recently got it back.

"Someone in Tokyo is going to take me in. In Yongen-Jaya," Akira says as he's walking through the bare trees of Inoshikara. It's laden with lights again, and with the world bleeding into night-time they flicker on, but Akechi hardly takes in the sight when Akira's voice has become dry from talking so long. Akira doesn't stop, however. From the sounds, it seems like Akira is sitting outside anyway, alone as always.

Perhaps he was sitting on that stone bench on the hill looking over the hometown, even though it's dark.

"I'll be there on April the 9th," Akira finishes and he says nothing more.

Akechi hums and looks up at the night sky. No stars.

"I live near Shibuya," Akechi volunteers, because he reads between the lines and he hears Akira's hurt, from the abandonment from his parents, from the silence of the woman, from his community that knew him for years distancing him as a violent assaulter. "If you tell me when, I'll meet you there on the day, Kurusu-kun."

"You don't mind?" Akira asks as a flat, tinny voice from his phone, a forced casual.

"No," Akechi replies firmly. "We're friends, aren't we?"

There's a long, long breath of silence.

"Thank you, Akechi."

The replying voice is small. Like Akechi had punched the air out of his lungs.

"There's nothing to thank," Akechi replies, and they go into a few more pleasantries before Akira cuts the call first.

Akechi immediately texts Fusa.

_[Hatake, I need the 9th of April to be surveillance-free.]_

_[You want me to fake work on a Saturday? Ughh, fine.]_

  


* * *

  


Something different happens when he's heading back home from school early in their third term in February. Despite the torrential rain the voices on the street are loud, and there's angry yelling in front of him as he walks from Shibuya station towards his dorm. As usual, the pedestrians on Tokyo streets prefer not to get wrapped up in drama, and the whole debacle is avoided like the parting of the Red Sea.

It makes it easier to see what's going on – and it piques Akechi's interest when he sees the familiar red and black checkers of Shujin's uniform pants, enough so that he doesn't join the stream of people hurrying along, pretending not to see what's happening.

A boy is on the ground, but the pouring rain that hadn't stopped all day prevents Akechi from seeing more from this distance, so he draws closer.

Oh. It's just bullying.

"It's all your fault anyway, Track Traitor," one of the boys standing around the fallen one hiss, kicking away a bag into the gutter and out of reach, before he and the other three guys surrounding the fallen boy stomp away.

Akechi's half passed the boy by now, not particularly wanting to involve himself in this blatant scene of harassment just like everyone else when he overhears the boy muttering to himself.

"Yeah, stuff it, let it go, Ryuji. They just had a bad day, that's all. This ain't worth gettin' angry over. Breathe, just like ma told ya to."

Akechi's brain stops. Rewinds. Replays. His eyes slide over to assess the boy again – spiky blond hair, young face, knee in a supportive brace, but unmistakably now _Ryuji Sakamoto_ , and without a falter his feet change direction. He stops in front of the gutter where the kicked bag landed, picking it up from the drain water and holding it up so some new rain could clean it up a bit. Then he goes to the crumpled boy and stands over him, dipping his umbrella to cover him too.

Ryuji startles when he realises he's being shielded from the rain, glancing up to see Akechi's friendliest smile, umbrella in one hand and his bag in the other.

"I thought you might need a hand," Akechi says, offering the soaked bag. Ryuji's mouth opens and closes a little, flabbergasted.

"Oh, uh, thanks dude," Ryuji splutters now, as eloquent as ever, reaching out for the strap of his bag and grimacing when he feels how soaked he is. He nearly stumbles when he gets up, one of his knees giving way before he recovers. Akechi keeps the umbrella over him as he does so, and when Ryuji straightens up his slouch makes him only reach up to Akechi's ear. "Oh man, I'm soaked! And they took my umbrella!"

So they did. Akechi hums a little in thought, putting a small frown on his face.

"Are you alright? It seems like they shoved you quite hard," Akechi says now, concern heavy in his tone. "Your knee seems injured, and it's raining heavily."

"I'm fine, don't worry! I'm quite hardy, y'know? You've done enough already for me, thanks. You're the nicest person I've met all day, hah," Ryuji Sakamoto grins up at him like he's never done before. He also doesn't seem to recognise him as the Detective Prince, but Ryuji had never seemed the type to watch morning TV shows or been interested in the news.

"If you don't mind, I have a spare umbrella," Akechi offers one that one of the girls in the class had slipped into his locker. It's a decent umbrella, dark-coloured and sturdy. "Do you want it?"

Ryuji's eyes are wide as he looks at Akechi. "Dude, you really won't mind? I'm just a rando on the street, y'know?"

"I was once bullied myself, and it's a very unpleasant experience," Akechi says conversationally. "I truly wouldn't mind helping you, especially if it's something as simple giving you an extra umbrella."

Ryuji blinks. "O-oh, uh. Thanks! Don't mind if I do then. I'm Ryuji, Ryuji Sakamoto! Nice to meet ya!"

Handing over the umbrella, Akechi starts walking forward. When the umbrella shoots open, Ryuji follows, and he makes sure to switch to a milder smile when he says, "I'm Goro Akechi, Sakamoto-kun. It's nice to meet you too."

Ryuji immediately makes a face. "Ew, Sakamoto-kun. No-one calls me that except the teachers. Just call me Ryuji, Akechi. Wait, you good with me callin' you Akechi? You look like a senior." Ryuji chatters inanely before peering at him with round eyes.

How strange, to see that face without any belligerence or hostility.

"Akechi's fine, Ryuji-kun."

"Dude, drop the 'kun'!"

Akechi smiles. "Ryuji-kun," he insists, "this is my turn," he waves to a smaller side street. "It was nice meeting you. I hope you have fewer run-ins with bullies next time."

"You're one of those stubborn bastards, I see," Ryuji replies, smile all teeth and crinkled eyes. "Nah, don't worry 'bout me. Those guys aren't usually like that, something just came up today that's all. There's this huge jerk at school and they just took advantage when they saw I slipped in the rain. Thanks for the umbrella, Akechi. Reminded me that the whole world's not entirely a pile of shit."

"Keep it," Akechi says, the pleasant smile still stuck on his face as he sketches a short bow. "You lost yours, and I really don't need another one. Goodbye."

"Bye, then! Hopefully we'll pass each other at the station or something," Ryuji waves as he leaves, and Akechi walks back to his own dorm with more than a little surprise.

A pleasant surprise though, he thinks when he is back safely in his dorm room that Fusa had guaranteed didn't have cameras and checks on his cactus.

As hardy as always.

  


* * *

  


Police Headquarters without Atsuzawa and Takaki feels much less welcoming than before. Since the unit disbanded, Naho had been transferred to another division and there's an uncomfortable feeling when he looks at their closed office, emptied of any personal effects.

If there was one positive about the initiative he'd had regarding his detective life is that the whole building seems to accept him more. He isn't just an upstart high schooler who solved a few cases – he was Atsuzawa's protégé, someone who helped with the Yokohama Prison and Tenkosai incidents, and a dozen reported other cases as well.

The detectives didn't dismiss his thoughts outright, at least. Even though everyone thought he was sitting on a fluff investigation with the comas, if he did happen over cases and had thoughts, more than a few would lend an ear.

It was during this time that he meets Sae again. He finds her in the break room again, typing quickly on her laptop and Akechi sits at the table next to her.

It takes a few minutes for her to acknowledge him, but when she does she nods with a professional smile.

"Nice to see you again, Akechi-kun. I've been hearing many impressive reports about you."

"I'm sure they were exaggerated, Sae-san. I'm also glad to see you. How are your cases?"

Sae's smile grows a little wider. "They're going well. I think you'd be glad to know that the evidence you pointed out to me last time was the crucial point to landing the case. Thank you again."

Akechi laughs a little, settling into the familiar straight turns of Sae's style of conversation.

"It's more than alright. As I said before, I'm more than happy to facilitate the progression of justice."

"Then may I trouble you with a few questions?" Sae asks, regard as warm as it'll ever get, and Akechi nods.

"Of course."

It doesn't lead to a rank up in their Arcana, but it does provide stimulating discussion over three different precedents that all have potential nuances on the case that Sae is currently researching for. It's pleasant, to throw ideas back and forth with Sae again and re-establishing that camaraderie before her heart was too distorted by pressure.

"See you around, Akechi-kun," Sae doesn't wave or bow, but dips her head slightly. Akechi picks up his attaché case and bows properly, with respect to her status.

"It was my pleasure to assist today, Sae-san. See you again."

  


* * *

  


April comes quickly – Hikaru left with his family for an overseas trip throughout the winter holidays, while Hinata was strangely resistant when he tried approaching her.

"It's j-just my new job," she insisted on the phone. "I'm a hotel receptionist now, and I also have to take care of Shion. I'll be the one to invite you, okay?"

"It's alright, Hinata-san," Akechi had replied. "I understand how stressful juggling a job and a child must be. Remember that Saito and I are here to help if you wish it."

Hinata hiccupped before laughing.

"Sorry, Akechi-kun. I was watching a sad animal video before you called. Thanks for reminding me, I'll definitely call you soon, okay? Just, just later. I need a little more time to settle."

He'd agreed easily enough, and wiled the time away by reading through the rest of the few books he'd collected, here and there. Some feature articles also popped onto his shelves, featuring spots in Tokyo such as the planetarium and the aquarium, and it's honestly a little refreshing to enjoy what a few hours with a book can provide.

It's the ninth soon enough, and he's standing in front of the ticket gates in Shibuya station, dressed casually in a grey shirt and black pants. The news station is blaring news about another horrific traffic incident, where a bus driver drove down the opposite side of the road, and he closes his ears to it as he looks in anticipation for a certain head of curly hair.

When Akira walks through the gates, Akechi waves.

"Kurusu-kun!" He smiles, and once he notices Akechi standing by the gates Akira beelines towards him. "You need glasses?" Akechi asks, furrowing his eyebrows through the nostalgia at seeing the black-rimmed frames when he gets close enough. Akira shrugs.

"Fake. People told me that my staring is… uncomfortable."

Akira's hands grip the strap of his bag a little more tightly, telling Akechi it was one of the more recent developments in his life, and Akechi sighs.

"Kurusu-kun—"

"Akira."

Those frames did nothing to lessen the intensity of Akira's gaze, Akechi thinks to himself, even as he acquiesced to the request with grace.

"Akira-kun, you don't need to be so kind to cater to the opinions of those who judge you for something you didn't do," he says as he leads Akira out into the station courtyard, Buchiko's statue as surrounded by tourists as always. He walks slowly, in deference to Akira's widened eyes at the sheer amount of people populating the area, rushing and pressing and hurrying in the hundreds. It's far cry from the countryside idyll Akira has been living in. There's even a very long moment when Akira freezes, eyes staring across the crossing like he's seen a ghost.

It's strange, to see Akira in Tokyo, wearing his glasses, in a Shujin uniform and be so… uncertain.

"Are you alright, Akira-kun?"

"Did you see that?" Akira asks, and when Akechi genuinely frowns in concern he shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm probably just tired."

When they're on the train from Shibuya to Yongen-Jaya, Akechi's standing in a corner near the door while Akira leans on the door straight, facing him. The sunlight shines through his irises, lighting Akira's black eyes into a streaked dark brown. There's something unmistakeably fond in that expression, and Akechi swallows.

"Thanks. For coming. I know you're busy."

Akechi fakes a small cough. "It's no big deal, Akira-kun. And I even have to leave you at Yongen-Jaya station because I have an errand to do, so I'm not doing a very good job as an escort, truly."

Akira tilts his head and leans forward.

"You're the first person to smile at me for the past four months," Akira says, voice nonchalant in the worst way. "It's a big deal to me, Detective Prince-kun."

Akira hasn't smiled even once since he saw him. Akechi hadn't realised how rarely Akira handed out his smiles until now. They had been easy to grasp before the trial.

"At least Tokyo is a new start," Akechi replies with careful optimism, reaching out to push Akira back to standing straight. "Perhaps you may find trustworthy friends here."

Ryuji Sakamoto, for one. The Phantom Thieves had never explained to him _when_ exactly they had stumbled over Kamoshida's Palace and began it all, but it must be soon.

"I already have one in front of me," Akira says straight-faced, watching as Akechi blinks his eyes twice at the bald admission before the tips of his ears turn slightly red as his gaze darts away.

"Ah, well," his friend murmurs, like he genuinely doesn't understand how relieving it was to see one smiling, friendly face in a whole sea of strangers. After months of a cold, silent home, of whispers and glances from his peers. Dinners where he sat in front of the television as his only company, eating leftovers while processing another day of absolutely _nothing_.

Akira was hurt, but it wasn't because of the social judgment. Whispers had always done less to him than many, and rumours would go in one ear and fly out the other.

No, the hurt had come from a crushed expectation he had. Of, perhaps, goodness. In his parents, his acquaintances, the aunties who waved at him before, the justice system he lived under, his belief that at least one of these groups of people would stand up and listen and realise he wasn't a demon spawning in their backyard threatening to steal their virtuous, peaceful lives.

Goro Akechi was the only one who sat through his explanation, words pouring out of him like never before. Words he had no chance to say, to people who hardly glanced at him.

Two hours. He'd checked the time stamp afterwards to see how long the call went for, and Akira had talked for two hours, toes freezing in the damp, mountain air, shivering in a too-thin jacket, still infinitely better than the whole town of betrayed trust that spread in yellow squares beneath his feet.

At the end of all that, Goro had said.

_"We're friends, aren't we?"_

Akira thought himself stronger than that. He'd never needed friends his whole school life, and the acquaintances he did make always told him he was 'weird' or 'intense' or 'awkward', sticking with him only for the high grades.

After that sentence, Akira had found himself wishing Goro was _there_ so he could see just how much he needed that sentence after all.

Goro Akechi had thick lashes on elegant features, a smile that Akira knew was calculated more than most. He deals with sincerity badly and sometimes looked at Akira like he was looking at someone else.

When Akira leans forward again, a little bit of some former mischief curling his smile, he thinks.

It's alright.

He has time now, to unravel it all. Even if Tokyo turns out to be an utter disappointment because he, admittedly, has low, low expectations of Shujin being a place where he'd find those 'trustworthy friends' (rumours always had a way of escaping). Akira thinks, watching Goro meet his eyes and wrinkle his eyebrows in genuine confusion like Akira was an _enigma_ instead of some mess of a teen on probation.

At least Goro Akechi is here.

  


* * *

  


Two days later he's running for his life after talking to his inner psyche of rebellion– which, apparently, is a black-winged, red-suited devil with a very large top hat – with his blond delinquent classmate and a talking cat whose voice is very, very familiar. His school has turned into some kind of weird torture dungeon, which bodes ominously really, about what sort of life he's going to begin here. The sky has turned red, he's going to be late, and he has apparently weird cognitive power coursing through his veins and he asks himself _what even is his life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi_Mi drew this amazing Atsuzawa art, and his trench coat looks so wonderful. That coffee cup too - thank you so much! It's amazing! Forgive my lack of reviewing vocabulary, please check it out if you want to. He'll come back a few arcs later, I promise.  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CBY6FzwFWRu/?igshid=ewg4tqxlgf8a  
> Juicymats drew Akira with his wild mane of long hair all the way back in chapter 8 (ish)! His hair is indeed very wild and goes in wild curls all the way to his shoulders and I don't blame Akechi for not recognising him. Thank you very much, juicymats! :D I really like it! Please check it out if you wish:  
> https://i.imgur.com/gsrDS5D.jpg
> 
> On further notes, I'm glad I was able to finish Shido(prep) arc strongly in your eyes. Thank you again, for every comment and kudo. It makes me inspired to continue forward. Shido is going to get his just dues one day. This chapter is once again, mostly transitional (sorry) because I promised the start of the game and ahaha look it's there... at the end. Yes, Akechi's isolation isn't entirely coincidental. Hinata's actually trying her best to stretch out the time before Shido blows up on her, but she knows she's on hot coals by now. Akira did not notice Akechi in the courtroom because he's a sneaky boi. Futaba has met her Troll Match in Narukami, who has grown up and gives less fucks than ever before. Ryuji and Sae sneaked in because reasons, Fusa is an angry tsundere and I finally have an official calendar I have to match with since Akira is starting Kamoshida's arc now. :')  
> Akechi doesn't fully realise just how soft Akira is already towards him. He thinks they're Just Friends. 
> 
> You guys were so worried about the consequences last chapter, but if I have to say anything in spoiler, it will be that I very much like happy endings. There may be bittersweet notes, but yes. I like happiness even if it uh takes a bit to get there. Which reminds me - some of you guys mention hard and difficult things, and forgive me but I just wanna say... You're strong! Even if you feel weak, being able to wake up and face life every day is an unbelievably strong thing to do. I apologise for being that one dude whose fingers freeze when I reply to a comment, so I'm just here to say there's horrible things in life but there's this rando stranger on the internet who believes in ya, because you found the energy to check out something you love strongly enough you got to chapter 24 of a rambly fic with slow burn slow enough to have no burn and that's some cool passion right there ^^  
> Sorry for the long comment. See you guys next week, I'll edit throughout the week. :)


	25. Chapter 25

They're lounging around in an apartment that Akira hasn't seen before, though the view peeking through the cracked curtains show the skylines of Tokyo that he's seen for a few days now. He's not familiar enough yet with Tokyo to know exactly where he is just by the shapes of whatever buildings pop out on the horizon, but his dream only takes a glance before looking back to the TV screen anyway.

It's some fighting game, the box at the bottom of the television loudly proclaiming it's TEGGEN 10, even though he knows TEGGEN 8 only came out half a year ago.

His thumbs fly fast and precise, and his white-robed muscled guy beat down the ninja looking person quickly. When the announcer shouts 'VICTORY!' the person behind him groans.

"Again? Akira, dude, that's like the thirty-sixth win in a row. Can't you give a bro a break?"

There's a cocky smirk pulling at his lips as his vision slides towards the man next to him.

"What, can't beat me at my best?"

Ryuji Sakamoto – it's undeniably him, even with black hair that's cropped short to the scalp and features that have grown fully into his jawline, stray stubble from lazy shaving speckled here and there – rolls his eyes at him.

"Bro, no-one can beat you at your best. Though hey, it's not as if I don't understand why you're in a good mood. Congrats on your graduation! Just Masters to go now, yeah?"

The smirk pulling on his lips soften into a smile. Ryuji replies with a large beam that lights up his whole face and a back clap.

"Yeah," Akira replies shortly, choosing his next fighter, some new character he's never seen before with green skin. Ryuji does the same, and the next few seconds are filled with the sounds of frantic button-pressing. They both watch as Ryuji's health bar plummets until the announcer shouts 'VICTORY!' again, the green-skinned guy posing victoriously over the ninja and Ryuji groans.

"Ugh, I give up," he says, flopping backwards onto his bed. The controller lands on a nearby pillow. "You're too good, man. How're you so good when you're lurking in your greenhouse all the time?"

The smile on Akira's face hasn't faded even as he also puts his controller onto the floor.

"Some people are just born with higher proficiency," he says back before the unnatural pause in between his expected reply has Akira turning his head to his friend, only to see that Ryuji's face looked conflicted. The smile drops, as he elbows Ryuji's knee. "What's wrong?"

"Gaaah!" Ryuji suddenly screams, and it's only his years and years of his teen years ingraining his 'I-don't-care' face that leads him to only blink when his friend does not only scream, but also flail, shoot upwards, kick his blanket off the bed, and dive back into bed face-first.

"…Someone's energetic today," Akira says through a face full of blanket. It slowly drips off his head.

"Ugh, ignore me. I'm just being stupid," Ryuji groans.

Akira neatly side-steps all the dumb jokes that their friend group usually shoots him and just raises an eyebrow at his friend, who is now sprawled faced towards the wall and has an energy of miserable distress that always gives him an unignorable itch to try fix the cause. Bunching that blanket into a lump on his legs, Akira rests an elbow on the whole mess and uses his other hand to poke his friend's back.

Ryuji rolls over and sighs when he sees Akira's eyes trained to him, head tilted and face serious.

"No, really bro. It's stupid."

In the silence that follows Ryuji can clearly read Akira's replying expression, which is _'what's stupid isn't the thing that's causing you distress, but your insistence on not sharing something you're obviously struggling with to a friend who has been through with you thick and thin and has never truly judged you once'._

The good thing about being best friends is one, Ryuji can read that off his expression in the first place, and two, he also knows that such a sentiment requires too many words and Akira will never say it out loud.

"Alright," Ryuji gives in. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm truly, really happy for you. Okay? Like, getting your honours stuff all up top is really cool. It's just that it got me thinking on, y'know, where I was going."

There's understanding then, in a quiet shift of his mind, and Ryuji nods.

"I know I've been mentioning this for the past few years and not a lotta people are asking about that now since I've got my part-time at the sports shop and started that community college study thing, but… Everyone's going places, y'know? Ann has her modelling thing while studying part-time, Yusuke's landed that sponsor, Makoto is scaring all her professors and Haru's started that café she's always talked about and I'm—"

Ryuji does a little hand wave and half-shrug at that, and Akira hums in vague understanding.

"It's just. This community thing, working at the sports shop – that, that wasn't my dream, y'know? I wanted to run, get a scholarship. Get a proper degree like my ma always wanted, maybe in sports maybe, I dunno, and…"

"You told me Environmental Science was lame," Akira offers, and Ryuji does a little choked up laugh.

"Dude, that was before you showed me that project you did in that greenhouse. You were measuring all sorts of things, like soil salinity and gene splicing and bee stuff I can't begin to understand and stuff about sustainability and acidity and suddenly you were someone outta reach. And I know you're not. Bro, if there's one thing you've always been, it's that you've always been there. I'm just being friggin stupid."

Akira sits up straight at that, and he looks at this grown-up version of Ryuji through two eyes – the grown-up version of a boy he's met for a total of two days, and the eyes of a man who has obviously been his close friend for years and years, and they both shake their heads.

"That's not stupid," Akira replies. Ryuji looks up as if to protest, but the words die in his throat when he sees Akira's serious expression. "It's not stupid to not know the future, Ryuji."

Ryuji's face screws up.

"The future? Dude, you've lost me already."

Akira lets a ghost of a smirk flit by his face before he settles back, pushing the blanket off his lap onto the floor and flopping down on it himself. Ryuji's bed is low enough that a simple tilt of his head is enough for Ryuji to keep looking at Akira.

"Everyone else if following what they want for the future," Akira explains. "Yours had to change. Now you're comparing yourself to people who're chasing something they've known to want for years."

"But aren't I laggin' behind?"

Akira shrugs, staring up at Ryuji's ceiling. It's old, with slight stains here and there.

"It's not a competition if you don't make it one."

"But everyone's…" Ryuji trails off when he sees Akira's measured look, and he slowly smiles. "Yeah, true. When have the Phantom Thieves ever listened to what society says?" Akira nods, and Ryuji turns over to land on his back, staring at the ceiling himself. "And yeah, it's alright to take a breather and chill a bit while I find what I wanna do next. I do want a proper job so I can support my ma though."

"So don't think for too long," Akira replies with a little levity, and Ryuji laughs.

"I'm not that great at thinking, so maybe I'll go and hunt around the city for inspiration. Thanks, Akira." Ryuji's rolled over again, and his eyes are back to having a familiar smile. "You're the greatest bro anyone can ask for, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Akira replies. "I'm the best."

Ryuji bursts out laughing even as he chucks a pillow at Akira's head. It lands straight onto his face, pressing his glasses uncomfortably into his face, and Akira sits up in protest. By then, Ryuji has sprung up himself, controller back in hand as he points to their neglected TEGGEN game.

"Alright! Let's go another round! I'll beat ya this time!"

That's when the dream stops, fading slowly back into the morning grey light that's streaking through the dust and grime of the windows of Le Blanc's attic windows. It had been a hasty clean job – apparently, Sojiro Sakura's daughter had caught a bad sickness only a few days before Akira had been slated to appear, making Sojiro clear out the attic for Akira to live while she recuperated.

It's not as if he minds that much, Akira thinks as he blinks past the morning grit and starts preparing for school, mind wandering over the weirdly vivid dream set in the future. The same feel of a too-big body but without the pots of flowers and a talking cat this time…

Akira pauses in the middle of washing his face.

Talking cat?

* * *

Last time he lived April 2016 he had been much more active. The Transport Minister had become weak by most of his supporters being accused of scandals, becoming mysteriously sick, or going on indeterminable leave due to blackmail, and even then Shido had needed a major subway crash before the Prime Minister officially forced the Transport Minister to resign. For one, the Transport Minister had been in his spot since the last government. Second, because he was a rich, old and actually quite an upstanding man, he had many supporters.

Akechi had created a Mental Breakdown on a subway driver during midday, right after peak hour but still with lingering leftovers of Tokyo crowds. It had injured seventy-nine people, heavily injured nineteen, incapacitated twelve, and killed eight. Even at the end of the year there were still at least twenty in hospital from the results of the April subway crash, with both victims and their families barely mollified by the Minister and half his workers stepping down willingly. Shido had, of course, condemned the 'corruption' and the 'negligence', doing as politicians do and tearing his opponent when he was down. It was one of the major steps that created the first justification for Shido to start creating his own party, and it was one of the main causes that let Shido give Akechi a break as he was busy with meddling with the power vacuum the Minister had left.

This time, Akechi had limited his uses and Shido had to use many of his other cards to achieve Akechi's original effect. Even then, perhaps 10% of the efforts were either caught or ameliorated. That's disregarding Akechi and Atsuzawa's combined efforts arresting important members of Shido's group, and the lessened opportunities for Shido to fan himself into a more positive light. It had ended up with the Transport Minister still tentatively safe, Shido fuming at how tentative the complete support of his faction still was, and Akechi watching all of this on the side, cataloguing, planning, not knowing whether he should scoff or revel at the _pride_ he felt when he realised how much of Shido's success had rested on his cooperation after all. Shido had painted him the lesser, the beggar, a tool that will only become blunter the more he used it. Whose only use, as made obvious by his death, was to be discarded as an inconvenience in the end.

But look at him now, Akechi thought with a dark glee that he hides under a benign smile. Shido wasn't showing it, but Akechi knew the signs of desperation. His plans for the Transport Minister needed to be in place by the end of May at the latest, and he was nowhere near his goal.

It is his oversight - perhaps a part of Akechi will always reluctantly think of Shido as an imposing, powering force, strong and unrelenting and has utterly everything under his thumb - that he is blindsided by what cornered beasts would stoop to do.

Shido orders him to comatose a particular subway driver with a history of domestic violence on the bright morning trains of Tokyo peak hour, where hundreds of people tightly cram onto the subway cars, and hundreds more stream onto platforms in long, winding lines waiting to be shoved on. This order is his only April coma request, and Akechi looks at it in on his phone on the subway himself, packed tightly with all the other men, women, students and elderly. If he cranes his head even a little, he'll see a sea of heads, winding down the long length of the train under the artificial fluorescents. When the subway stops, the small jolt leaves a small wave of movement that goes halfway down the carriage when a young student loses her balance.

A crash, on a train like this? Deaths wouldn't be limited to the single digits. Injuries would go into the hundreds. Hospitals would be flooded, for who knows how long.

Shido, Akechi thinks with narrowed eyes, was testing his limits. If he complies, he will gain more missions, more 'trust' on Shido's terms. If he refuses, Shido will leverage something else, because they both know that Akechi hasn't taken any of Shido's more murderous suggestions seriously for a reason. Him asking this explicitly is a movement of weakness, and Shido will never show weaknesses without clawing his opponent to the same level...

Hah, Akechi thinks with a dry hum, smiling benignly to a station officer when he looks his way. This had never been the case before, where the problem was the fact that both parties knew the other too well.

And if there was any time to take a stand, Akechi thinks as he methodically tucks himself into his sheets that night, then this would be it. While he is still on that precipice in this life. While he still hasn't wasted Minato's gift.

On the evening of the 11th Akechi is walking past Shibuya station. There is a distinct lack of a subway crash, replaced instead with an intense debate with Shido that he had upheld as he walked from his school back to Shibuya, calm-measured tones hiding the true detail of their conversation to disinterested outsiders. He delayed the train crash scheduled for that day citing that he'd prefer to target the transport system when it wasn't peak hour – Shido had returned with the reasoning that they were striving for impact and discussion, and Akechi dragged the conversation with enough valid points that peak hour came and went.

Akechi succeeds that day, despite Shido's thinly veiled annoyance, though he can see it becoming an ongoing debate as both tried to force their views on the other. It left him walking across station square with a heavier tread than usual, heading to the convenience store on the other side of the crossing.

He's lingering, waiting for the lights to turn green when he hears a strain of a happy tune from a busker on the street corner to his left. It's not the corner he needs to go to, but the tones of a saxophone and the familiar figure that stands there makes him change direction anyway.

The closer he is, the clearer he hears it. Hikaru isn't playing with an amplifier, but his saxophone is loud and clear, bright as he runs down a scale and returns to the main melody with a bit of syncopation. His eyes are closed as he bobs to the beat with his body, fingers sure and unfaltering when Akechi finally recognises the tune – Misono's newest single, albeit with a few twists and turns that Akechi doesn't remember from the times he's heard it.

Akechi has listened to enough saxophone to understand that Hikaru's smooth transitions from low to high registers, little flourishes and dynamic control is oozing skill that he doesn't expect from a teenager. He's impressed when Hikaru finishes, going forward to toss what change he could find into the open saxophone case in front of him. The coins land with loud metallic clinks.

"Thank you!" Hikaru automatically says, wiping sweat off his forehead before his eyes truly see Goro standing in front of him, and his smile suddenly turns up a thousand watts. "Goro!" He exclaims loudly, "What a wonderful surprise!"

Akechi flinches when the word 'Goro' incites a few of the crowd to look at him in his normal ensemble, attaché case and all, and some look again. Hikaru blinks, before glancing around and winces with him.

"Oh crap, whoops! I do this with Misono too, I forget you're both famous! Wait a sec, we can go soon."

Hikaru hurriedly tips the change in his case into a bag that he pulls from his pocket, before carefully taking out the reed and putting back his saxophone where it belongs. Although quick, Goro is fielding two girls who're insisting on having a picture with him by the time Hikaru straightens up again.

"Sorry, girls," Hikaru flashes a grin and a wink at the ladies. When he pulls Akechi in with an arm around his shoulder Akechi joins the girls in staring bewilderedly at him. "We have a catch up planned, sorry for interrupting you. Goodbye!"

Then Hikaru frog-marches away with Akechi in tow all the way across the crossing. It's only a minute later that Hikaru drops his arm and turns to Akechi.

"Sorry about that again, Goro," Hikaru says as they now wander down the street in comfortable anonymity. They still stand out, but not to the point that anyone would wish to look twice as they enter back into the crowds of Shibuya station. "I forget how loud I talk sometimes! How have you been? I heard you cracked one of those coma cases recently! Who knew that minister was so corrupt?"

Akechi pushes down the bitterness at Hikaru's honest mention of something he's trying not to think about, and smiles. A tinge of familiarity, just enough to still maintain a bit of appropriate distance. "I've been well, Hikaru-kun, despite the fact that I've been finding that juggling third-year studies with detective work is starting to get challenging. How was your holiday in Europe?"

"Eh, it was fine?" Hikaru replies. "It was just visiting family anyway, we go every year. I bought a souvenir for you, you know? I was thinking of giving it to you when our timetables finally match enough that we can go to the jazz bar again, but we bumped into each other here!"

"You play very well," Akechi compliments. "Was that Misono's newest single? You truly are his fan, aren't you?"

"Hehe, you could tell?" Hikaru rubs his nose bashfully. "Yeah, I've been his fan for ages – that first album I recommended, Misono composed that when he was just fourteen! When I was fourteen I was still struggling with sight-reading!"

They're interrupted by a slight growl – Hikaru pats his stomach sadly.

"Hey, want to catch dinner? Do you have time? It's my treat, I have enough from today's session for a couple bowls of ramen."

Akechi had been prepared to eat the usual convenience store sandwich as he sorted through next week's homework in his dorm anyway. When was the last time he had hot food?

"That sounds wonderful, Hikaru-kun."

"Great! Let's go to Ogikubo! They have the best ramen there," Hikaru lights up, and soon enough they've nabbed a seat at a small joint that Hikaru insists _'is the absolute best, no comparison'_ and soon enough a bowl of Tokyo Shoyu in front of Akechi while Hikaru snaps his chopsticks in satisfaction over his bowl of Tonkotsu, dishing out garlic from tubs next to him into his soup.

They eat in relative silence, some of the tension fading from his shoulders as he chews through the large bowl of ramen. The salt is no joke in comparison to what he usually eats, but the bowl is hot in his hands, and the meal sits comfortably after he finishes. It's an honest surprise what a satisfying meal has done to his mood – the tension he didn't know that had dragged itself in a long line from his shoulders to his neck has disappeared.

"It's good right?" Hikaru smiles, leaning back in his chair and burping. "Whoops, excuse me. Add a serving of noodles, please!" He waves to the waitress who nods in reply and tosses another batch of noodles into his soup. He's soon slurping that up too, bobbing his head to the music they're playing around the store as Akechi watches with bemusement. He's already beyond full from the first bowl.

"I love this tune!" Hikaru says after his last slurp. "Feel that beat, Goro! The drummer's going between three four and six eighths so perfectly, I can't!" He wiggles in his seat, and Akechi crinkles his eyes.

"Hikaru-kun, I'm not actually a musician even though I appreciate it," and Hikaru turns to him.

"Then let me explain!"

After a ten-minute explanation, where Hikaru commandeered table napkins and has drawn all over them, Akechi nods as he continues.

"I mean it's easy to switch between simple and compound time if you practice enough, but it's still impressive," Hikaru says overall, and Akechi tucks the information in a folder he's labelled as 'not-very-useful' and smiles.

"I am amazed at your passion for music every time I meet you, Hikaru-kun," Akechi says.

"People usually just call me loud!" Hikaru exclaims. "Thanks, Goro. You got to love something to truly live, as my grandpa used to say, so I guess I'm living my best life right now!"

Now that Hikaru has pointed out the rhythms of the song that kept repeating in the shop every few songs, Akechi can identify what he meant with the shifts in tempo. It creates an intriguing effect in its delay and shift that does incite interest now that he knows its there, and he's so focused that he nearly doesn't catch Hikaru's next statement.

"I'm talking about myself too much, sorry Goro. Sooo, I'm guessing that you love detective work, right?"

Like anything Hikaru says, it's asked innocuously. Akechi doesn't deny or affirm anything. He loved the attention that being a genius detective brought, no question. He liked achieving what others couldn't, liked the recognition of senior investigators when they listened to his logic. Being a detective also brings him several shades closer to being someone important to Joker. However, love was a strong word for someone as hollow as him, perhaps, a boy who made patricide his sole goal in life and cared for little else other than flattery.

"…When I'm helping causes of justice, perhaps," Akechi replies, and Hikaru frowns a little.

"Huh? Aren't you always helping justice, Goro?"

"Sometimes red-tape, authority and bureaucracy stops me from truly achieving the depths I want to investigate," Akechi offers in replacement of just outright saying _Shido_ or _SIU Director_ , "and unfair rulings are made even when I know I could've helped."

Especially if he's the one fixing the trials in the first place, his work taking half the time because he's done all of this before.

Hikaru breathes out a faintly wounded sound, face sympathetic.

"That sucks, Goro."

"That's why I cannot truly say whether I love detective work or not," Akechi expands in clarification, finding it easier to share his feelings when he excuses it in the name of Arcana. "I like proving my hypothesis right, but sometimes that does not truly create the positive outcome I wished for."

"It's alright," Hikaru says, bumping his shoulder into his. "You know, the fact that you're having these thoughts mean that you probably like it a lot, Goro! Sometimes when we love something, we have to decide whether we're up to embracing the pain that comes with it, because love is hard! That's what I've learnt," Hikaru nods, before his tone turns a little wistful. "Sometimes, I think love is the feeling you realise after you give up a tonne of things for it, and after all of that losing and stuff you realise man, I still really like it. It must be love, for me to still embrace it as I do, and that then sometimes means you embrace that loss too…"

"That sounds like it came from personal experience," Akechi says, tone made soft and sympathetic, and Hikaru laughs.

"Well, everyone has their baggage, and you definitely have some heavy ones on yours. I remind myself this sometimes and I think I'm overstepping my boundaries again, but keep your head up, Goro!" Hikaru swirls his chopsticks in the last of his cold soup and downs it all in one go. The oil clings to his lips, shiny, dark green eyes encouraging and honest when he turns that smile to him.

"We humans, we need to care about things. Music, art, literature for artsy-fartsy people like me, and maybe science and knowledge stuff for you, but we need to love something to make our lives meaningful, you know? Without something we care about, to be honest, we're just specks of space dust. Humans, each of us, we create our own meaning – how amazing is that? How hard must it be, with seven billion of us all trying to carve out something from the future? That's why I'm not afraid of ever chasing my dream," Hikaru says with conviction, every word like a solid statement of fact. "Because our ability to dream is what makes our lives worth something."

Akechi swallows. If Akechi's words are water, sliding around obstacles, truths manipulated and sunk under layers of misdirection, Hikaru talks like one who has already trodden down mountains, has stared down the depth of seas and laughed. Even though Akechi knows that the sentiments that Hikaru is sharing are perhaps too romantic, too idealistic.

"So, Goro, you too!" Hikaru continues, bumping Akechi's elbows because he's definitely noticed that Hikaru was a very touchy fellow. "Don't give in – if you love something enough to chase it even when there's a tonne to lose, don't be afraid!"

He finishes the whole spiel off with absolutely atrocious double finger guns, and Akechi covers his mouth for a few seconds before letting it fall with a smile.

"I don't even know what my dream is," Akechi replies. Perhaps once, it was Shido's head on a platter. Maybe when he was young, it was a wish for his mother to only have Good Days. Now he's confronted the vastness of the universe, enjoyed detective work under a good mentor, explored science as an unconventional assistant. He's a good student who is good at studying. He has a lot of regrets in a world that sometimes still feels like it holds a majority of humans that are honestly just a waste of space.

Resistance, perhaps. That's all he's ever known.

"That's okay too, Goro," Hikaru nods. "Using a bit of time to figure out something so important only makes sense. You're already an amazing guy – I'm sure you'll have an amazing dream too!"

Hikaru pays for their ramen after continuing to chatter on a little more about the next piece he's trying to learn for the saxophone ensemble at Kosei, and Akechi nods along. They reiterate their promise that Akechi will hear him perform at the bar one day and they leave, splitting ways at the station.

"Sorry for talking too much and thanks for the company, Goro! See you next time!" Hikaru calls over the heads of dozens of tired businessmen who glance grumpily at him, and Akechi waves back with a small smile. His talk with Shido has become much less prominent in his mind.

"It was a pleasure. Next time, Hikaru-kun."

**Star Rank 3 – Hikaru Kondo**

* * *

Akira contacts him as usual – they have a few calls, but since Akechi is mostly free during the evenings and Akira admits that he has a curfew, they don't have the opportunity to meet. Checking up on each other isn't as bland as Akechi would have thought since Akira has a healthy strand of deadpan snark that if Akira had been anyone else, he would've considered slightly flirtatious.

Joker's sense of humour had always been like that though, and Akechi is just mildly surprised that this sort of change is happening so quickly. Akira's only been in Tokyo for what, only a few days?

"Do you have anything on a guy called Kamoshida?" Akira asks on Wednesday right after school. It's a call, and he can hear the sound of students behind him chattering. Akechi himself is on the train during the school rush, heading to Headquarters, and he hums when he thinks of Kamoshida. The first of the Phantom Thieves' cases. Principal Kobayakawa's pride and joy, an Olympian who has represented Japan on the international level. He's also a sadistic narcissist who abuses his students both physically and sexually. The Director had long, under Kobayakawa's wishes, buried any complaints and misdeeds in Kamoshida's name.

There is no recourse for what he has and will do. This is the sort of person Akechi laughed at in Palaces, Loki cackling with glee at the fear in their faces when he levelled a gun at their head and shot them dead.

It's only been a few days, however, and Akira was already enquiring into Kamoshida. Has he already accessed the Metaverse?

"I've heard rumours," Akechi decides to reply honestly, holding his case close as he speaks closer to the receiver. "I happened over his name last year when I was trying to find something to investigate during a quiet time. Do you want to hear those, Akira-kun?"

"Teach me, sensei," Akira replies. It raises a small exasperated smile on Akechi's face as he steps off the train to the solemnity of Nagatomo.

Slightly ridiculous, as always.

"Alright," Akechi carefully separates the things he learnt on his own from his previous knowledge. "Kamoshida is a former Olympian athlete, and since he retired from the professional field, he entered Shujin to teach. Many students flocked to join the volleyball team when they heard it. After he started as a teacher, I overheard a policeman complaining about an influx of calls from a school and writing a request for an investigation, and when I enquired further, it was because several parents had repeatedly complained about the school not taking care of violent conduct."

"That's nothing special," Akechi continues. "What I was interested in was that a mere few weeks later all the parents had rescinded their complaints and refused investigation. They said that the abuse was just a misconception and that the school was looking after the student's best interests after all."

"What?" Akira replies in disbelief. It seems like he'd stopped walking.

"Yes, and when I looked further into it, I was told to stop because there's no valid reason to investigate any more. That's around the time another coma case happened, so I was distracted from this rumour. I can send you my notes on it if you wish. Do you need anything else?"

"No. Thanks, Akechi," Akira sighs.

"Are you having problems with this teacher, Akira? You're going to Shujin, correct?" Akechi asks, indulging his curiosity of these founding days of the Phantom Thieves. Last time he had no idea this had been brewing on his doorstep, but now he had the opportunity to feed his curiosity.

"Let's just say he doesn't like me," Akira replies dryly, and Akechi hums.

"Remember that I'm here if you wish for an official ear," Akechi says. "Now that you've pointed it out, his case does seem highly suspicious. If he has contacts with the police, know that you have one on your side as well."

Akechi pauses outside the Police Headquarters so that he could finish the call, going to an alcove on the side.

Akira breathes out a long breath.

"I know. Thank you, Akechi."

"I'm sorry I can't seem to help more," Akechi replies.

"It's okay. Being a Detective Prince must be hard," Akira says, and that sudden lift in tone gives Akechi a premonition that he's going to spew nonsense again. "You're busy saving other damsels in distress. I understand."

"If you call yourself and a fifty-seven-year-old train driver damsels, then sure," Akechi replies, as dry as the desert.

Akira chuckles.

"Talk to you later, Akechi."

* * *

He's been keeping an ear out for Shiho Suzui's suicide attempt. He doesn't remember the exact date that it happened, but it's one of the only solid timestamps that Akechi has. The Phantom Thieves had shared their past in broad strokes, but there had been one comment where Takamaki had told him,

_"After Shiho tried to commit suicide, I followed them into the Palace because I knew they were doing something and I needed to be part of it too."_

It's surprising just how soon it is though. It's just the Friday of Akira's first week at Shujin when Akechi checks hospital records and sees a case that's identical to Shiho Suzui. That means not only has Akira awakened, Ryuji Sakamoto has too, and Ann Takamaki will awaken soon.

Akechi sends a quick text to Fusa to ask whether the afternoon could be surveillance-free (Fusa replies with a grumpy _'give me more notification next time, brat'_ ) and enters Mementos to travel to Shujin as discreetly as possible.

He enters Kamoshida's Palace without much difficulty. By the looks of it, it's a relatively easy Palace, though it has some impressive verticality. Akechi's seen enough castles as Palaces that he's prepared for anything – will it launch into the air in a defensive manoeuvre, be full of pitfalls and traps – but in the end it's merely medieval themed.

He chooses Morrigan because it's much easier to hide than Robin's regalia, and it's honestly not that difficult to follow the trail that Akira and Ryuji went, smashed and stolen objects lighting up a path. It's like tailing them at Okumura's Palace all over again, without the added pain of the airlock puzzles.

Soon he hears a girl yelling. Ann Takamaki. Something about armour?

He rounds a corner just in time to hear Morgana's voice asking, "You ready?"

Quickly flickering back, he looks around the corner to see Akira standing in front of a large, mahogany door in Joker's black coat. Even now, only a few days in, he looks perfectly comfortable wearing it, nonchalant confidence in the way he looks up and down the door before looking back down to Morgana.

"I'm good to go," Akira replies and pushes open the door.

Akechi waits before creeping closer, listening in on the conversation as much as he could through the thick door. He hears Ann screaming before footsteps run closer to the door. Akechi quickly hides behind a suit of armour as a cognitive version of Takamaki in a bikini bursts out of the room.

The sounds of battle begin in the room beyond, and Akechi quickly enters before the door fully shuts.

It only takes a quick glance to know what's going on. Half-naked cognitive girls in sports bloomers are cowering at the side of a room draped in velvet and surrounded by statues that depict women's body parts. The room is lit only by red-candled braziers, referencing a red-light district, as the middle is cleared for a stand-off between the Phantom Thieves and rather weak Belphegor. Behind the toilet is the smirking Shadow of Kamoshida in a royal cloak wearing a speedo, not hiding much to the imagination.

Akechi averts his eyes and hides behind one of the statues to watch the fight.

It's honestly… a little underwhelming.

He'd known, of course, that he met the Phantom Thieves after they had developed their powers. In a single year, their team had managed to beat him at full power. Akechi had, more than once, wanted to challenge Akira to a duel just to measure his powers to his own. The amazing leader of the Phantom Thieves and his multi-Personaed powers, versus his own two years of effort as a Shadow assassin?

Who'd win?

As much as it hurt to admit it, he didn't know the answer.

But here, Akechi watched as he had to face reality. There were hardly any tactics. Joker attacked Belphegor with a Pixie, of all the things he's already killed a thousand of, Ann's strongest spell was an Agi and Ryuji seemed to have no physical skills on his Persona because he didn't use any. When Morgana shot his slingshot, he missed more than he hit. Their combined attacks as a party of four didn't even kill Belphegor, letting him use a Dia on himself before Akira leapt forward with a shoddy looking knife and slashed him into its death throes. Kamoshida soon flees, passing right by him in a wave of strong cologne. After brief discussion, the Phantom Thieves soon follow, Ryuji and Akira supporting Ann as they make their own exit.

It leaves Akechi alone in the room to think. Ignoring the crowd of half-naked girls along the walls who had immediately started to pose seductively the moment the Phantom Thieves leave, he walks to where they just had their fight. A few scorch marks from Ann, perhaps, but that's it.

Akechi brings a hand to his head, and sighs internally.

Too _weak_.

He intellectually knew this, of course. He'd been just as weak a lifetime ago when he nearly died beating down his very first Shadow.

The Phantom Thieves right now were useless to him. They needed a few more Palaces, at least, or a few trips into the Metaverse. Akechi had tolerated a few daydreams where he also joined the Thieves at the very beginning. Play their friendship game, examine how exactly, Akira grew to be the monster that he would be.

But doing so like he is would only bring unanswerable questions.

"Halt, intruder!"

Akechi looks up to see a crowd of Shadows entering the doorway, all dressed up in guard armour and pointing their spears menacingly at Akechi.

"Really?" He asks them, tilting his head back to look down at them with Morrigan's restless arrogance. "Don't you understand just how much stronger I am compared to all of you trash?"

"We are proud guards of King Kamoshida!" One of the guards shouts. "We do not retreat! Prepare to die!"

"Well," Akechi replies, smiling beneath his bladed mask. "You asked for it. _Robin Hood!"_

Robin bursts out as Akechi adjusts to the feel of gloves over his hands instead of heavy metal gauntlets. Robin's mask is already in his hand as he stares down the crowd of Shadows who were still busy transforming, the ones closest to him transforming into various figures of angels and cavalry.

Weak. All so weak.

_"Megidolaon!"_

The first sliver of force kills the first guard into ash with just a mere breath, and the rest of the room clears as Megidolaon blooms. In a few seconds, the room is clear, and Akechi walks over their ashes towards the exit, wondering when Akira would reach his level so they could take down Shido together.

Perhaps... before Okumura's death would be best.

* * *

Maruki takes a second to blink when he walks down the stairs of Shujin Academy to see three teenagers magically shimmer into existence in the alleyway in front of him. He blinks, pauses for a second, before letting his body autopilot his way down the rest of the stairs and onto the street.

_Did I see that?_

yes

_I'm not just too tired, am I? I did go and accidentally drink that cup of coffee right before I wanted to sleep yesterday and then I was so buzzed I read through three papers and one of Rumi's manga books until it was four AM or something…_

you did not see falsely

Huh.

Well, far from Maruki to deny that maybe magic did exist and he was just another ignorant muggle wandering around and getting obliviated every three seconds. Just because there was no proof didn't mean it didn't exist, after all. Just think about cognitive pscience.

Maruki glances backwards to watch the three teens – a beautiful girl, a thuggish boy, and a quite elegant featured boy walk out of the alleyway, all wearing Shujin uniforms. Maruki blinks twice. They are still there, and Maruki finally goes back to walking normally just in case someone noticed him looking too long at a student and accused him of being a pervert or something because he truly wasn't, he was just an innocent bystander to high schoolers doing magic, which is fuel for police to arrest him accusing him of a drug trip, to be truly honest…

you're overthinking again

And indeed he was. Maruki brushes a hand through his hair and sighs.

He didn't know what had pushed him into coming to the school. Some subconscious push maybe, added onto the fact that one of his college friends had told him rumours that Principal Kobayakawa had connections to people who were interested in cognitive pscience research. He really does desperately need funding, but he had been disappointed to find that Principal Kobayakawa was, in fact, a highly self-absorbed man who didn't even listen to him and thought he was applying as a counsellor.

In the end Maruki had just gave him his resume and left. It's not as if he'd get hired, anyway.

maruki

lay low for a while

Maruki frowns. _Is something the matter?_

i feel

something strange is happening

there is an unknown force at work

be careful maruki

Then the mysterious voice stops talking, and Maruki knew him enough to understand that nothing was going to convince the voice to keep talking. Laying low probably meant no Actualisations for a few weeks.

He's been with this strange partner of his long enough to know that cognitive pscience was just the tip of a massive iceberg. If there was something brewing in the cognitive world, it'd be best to listen.

"Doctor Maruki!" A cheerful voice calls. "I didn't know you were going to be here today!"

"Oh, Kasumi!" Maruki turns with a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here either, even though I know you recently transferred. How have you been?"

The girl in front of him looked far cry from the depressed, suicidal girl he once met, pleading with him under the weighted shoulders of survivor's guilt. Maruki is only too glad to nod along to his former patient's happy chatter about her school day as they walk down the street down to the station together.

* * *

Sunday finds him helping Saito when he receives a text from her mid-morning asking him whether he had the time to fetch a basket underneath her table that she forgot. The text is apologetic, explaining that she was already at the hospital before she remembered the extra basket.

Akechi texts back assuring her it's fine before fetching the basket using the spare key that Saito hides behind a pot-plant and heading down the street to the hospital.

The receptionist smiles at him from the desk, and Akechi nods back as he walks down towards the more community centred part of the hospital. A small kids corral, a resting place for parents on the side, and a small quiet room with glass walls that Saito sits within, the door cracked open.

When Akechi approaches, he can hear Saito's kind voice.

"You already know what to do, don't you?" She's asking, patting the woman's hand in between her own. She's middle-aged, dressed impeccably with hair in a professional bob, but there are remnants of tear tracks from her mascara.

"Saito-san," the woman says hoarsely, voice a deeper husk than Akechi expects. "But what if he still loves me?"

"Yui-san, do you love him?"

"I loved who he used to be," Yui says more to Saito's hands than Saito herself. There's a flash of sympathy in Saito's face when the woman doesn't continue.

"Yui-san, although our past in undeniably important because our experiences shape who we are now, we people ultimately live in the present. We act in the present, we make choices in the present. We are the people we are – in the moment that we live. There are some things that even the most tender memories from the past shouldn't excuse. You understand that, right?"

Yui sighs, and the confident look Akechi can easily see the woman having if she was walking down the street in Shibuya or sitting at an office desk, crumples. Saito doesn't say anything more, just draws her in and pats her on the back, and Akechi makes himself scarce for the next ten minutes before returning.

By then, the woman has left, and Saito is back to knitting away in her chair.

"Sorry for delaying you, Akechi-kun," Saito says, smiling up at him. She's not wearing a cap today since the weather has been so fine, though she's still wearing a sweater. "You heard a little of that?"

"I'm guessing she was in an unfortunate situation," Akechi replies smoothly, offering the basket to Saito. She points to an empty spot in a worn cupboard nearby, and he slots it in.

"I've seen Yui-san quite a few times these past few months," Saito says. "She's a strong girl."

"Do you talk to many people here?" Akechi asks as he straightens up, rolling out one of his shoulders, and Saito smiles down at the sleeve that she's making.

"Well, I'm hardly qualified, but some people who don't want to face official help sometimes find their way to me. I try my best to remind people that they're strong, but ultimately people have to make their own choices."

Akechi thinks of the edge of a blue bruise that peeked from Yui's collar when she had bent forward to hug Saito, and he hums.

"Strong, Saito-san?"

"One of those questions again, Akechi-kun?" Saito asks with a twinkle in her eye. "You're always asking me one deep question after another. Don't worry, it's a sign of an inquisitive mind. Let's keep this simple…" Saito tilts her head. "The one thing that a person can't take away from you is yourself. Dignity, pride, ambition, inner strength, people can steal from you momentarily. But these things, they come from within yourself. You generate it. And the moment people realise this, they become untouchable."

"Really?" Akechi replies. "That… I can't help but feel it is a little unrealistic."

He also thinks with humour that Shido would flip if heard what Saito was saying. Shido made a living out of stealing the dignity and ambitions of others merely because he thought that they were worth less than his own.

Shido had pushed for the peak-hour subway crash again.

Akechi still hadn't replied.

"How so, Akechi-kun?" Saito asks, and Akechi sits down in the chair next to her. The view from here, is, as usual, the worn-down kids corral in a faded rainbow. Saito never sits in any other seat.

Akechi replies, "Take Yui-san, for example. You implied that she's been coming to the hospital for months, Saito-san."

"Yui is strong, only she's using it in the worst way possible," Saito says placidly. "Her strength lies in her loyalty and love. Family is precious to her, and she doesn't want to rip it apart, and this strength is what keeps her facing her husband every day. Her husband knows this and has guilted her into staying with him whenever she mentions his behaviour, mentioning petty things to place blame of his abuse onto her actions. She's able to bear it because she is strong. However, she's too strong – she doesn't know how to bend anymore, so all I can do is to either tell her to get official help, which she refused or redirect that strength."

"What do you mean by redirect?"

"Why, mentioning her child, of course. She has a cute three-year-old daughter, and I remind Yui that she has something precious on the line." Saito grins underneath her wispy white hair. "I've told her it's my personal opinion, of course, and that she doesn't have to listen to me if she doesn't want to… but I may have told her to leave the bastard once or twice. She's afraid of change and she has so much to lose. But she obviously wants her situation to change as well, so I keep telling her – your daughter's future is on the line. You have to take the first stand!"

The sound of children's laughter seeps in through the open door, and Akechi doesn't let himself think too much.

"Hey, Saito-san. What do you think are my strengths?"

"Yours?" Saito asks. "Hmm. Your determination, perhaps. I've noticed that you have quite a fire in you to prove yourself. You throw yourself into everything you do and fight for what's important to you, and that's always admirable. And perhaps your kindness? Whether it's an active choice or not, it's nothing to sniff at."

Akechi can't help but laugh there, a sound that joins the laughter from outside. It makes something sardonic into something warm.

"Kindness is a little inaccurate, Saito-san," Akechi says afterwards, and Saito shrugs.

"Well, that's the thing about opinions. You can't police them. And I think you're a very nice young man, Akechi-kun. Look at you, fetching baskets for me, saving women from homelessness. If that isn't kind, nothing is. Now all you have to do is accept it."

Saito reaches out and jokingly presses down on his head. When he goes with it, Saito's wrinkled face creases even more in a wide smile.

"Look at you, Akechi-kun, admitting to yourself that you're a kind young man! Which reminds me, want a cookie? I baked too many for my grandson's visit, and now I have a whole Tupperware container of them."

Akechi's pressed into accepting a whole container of cookies that he'd honestly thought was one of Saito's donation wares, and he goes home with the taste of chocolate chip cookies in his mouth as he checks his phone.

[Akira Kurusu: You free for lunch?]

[Akira Kurusu: I heard that the diner has nice food.]

[Goro Akechi: It's also a good place to study sometimes. I have to unfortunately decline for today, Akira-kun. I have something that I need to address.]

[Akira Kurusu: :( Okay. Next time then.]

[Goro Akechi: There's a place I want to introduce you in Kichijoji anyway. I think you'll like it.]

[Akira Kurusu: Alright. I'll look forward to it. I have high expectations.]

[Goro Akechi: I hope you like jazz, Akira-kun.]

Akira starts typing something but it stalls, presumably distracted by something so Akechi slips the phone back in his pocket and takes out another one.

It's an order, as always.

**We need to have a discussion, Akechi.**

**Sun Rank 3 – Ise Saito**

* * *

This time it's just a phone call, so Akechi has that at least as he sits on his bed, curtains drawn and windows closed. He recently bought another layer of curtains, and they block the sunlight better than only having one cloth layer.

"Thank you for arranging some time to speak to me today," Akechi says first when the call connects, and Shido gives an approving hum.

"Then you understand the issue that we're going to speak about," Shido says. "Your strange reluctance to uphold your end of the bargain, Akechi."

Akechi breathes in the smell of his room – tea, new books, fresh blankets – and replies.

"Shido-san, I wasn't refusing our bargain to finish one Palace a month," Akechi says. "I merely disagreed with the selection of people you wished to target."

"Having a choice on who to target wasn't part of our bargain, Akechi," Shido replies, voice alarmingly calm. It's smooth and prepared, and Akechi swallows. There's something wrong here, Akechi thinks. Normally their conversations consist of Akechi reporting, Shido fantasising about his Prime Ministership, Akechi stroking his ego, and Shido calling himself the chosen one, and Akechi taking his leave. Shido had never wasted much thought on Akechi, even nowadays where Shido paid him attention.

"It was an unstated part of our bargain, so I felt like I could take advantage of the ambiguity," Akechi replies formally. "We're currently targeting the railway company and the Ministry of Transport, and we've faked the assessment reports six months ago. Having a subway derail at midnight will have the same effect as having a subway derail at peak hour, pointing out that no-one in the Ministry tried to fix the tracks even though reports had warned of their degeneration. Am I correct?"

He can hear Shido's smile stretch across his ear.

"Akechi, this is why you're just my aide and not one of my advisors. Do you even know why we've targeted the Ministry of Transport for so long? It's because he's an old man with too many connections," Shido drawls condescendingly, "and dismantling him will dismantle the ruling party's main pillar. If we don't make it newsworthy, make the public angry in some way, that old man merely has to flick his finger and all the news will disappear."

"You also have strong media connections, Shido-san," Akechi starts, and Shido scoffs.

"Foolish. I expected better from you, Akechi. If I use these cards now when I don't have to, I'm just illuminating who is mine for that old man to see. He's not dethroned yet. He'll get rid of them, just like how I get rid of his when I see them."

Further arguments to save human life will fall on moot ears, and Akechi keeps his silence. Shido takes those seconds with satisfaction.

"Now do you understand, Akechi? This is why we need to drum up more drama. The more people involved, the harder it is to hide. We all know this, surely."

"May I propose mid-day then?" Akechi replies. "There are still people within the subways during this time."

"Did what I tell you go in one ear and out the other?" Shido merely snaps, before he sighs. "I didn't expect you to be so soft, Akechi. I hope there's another reason other than some misbegotten morality that has lead you to delay my plans, so I'm going to allow you that time."

…What?

"One week," Shido says, voice smooth as silk, the voice he used when he was baiting people into his faction, in his traps. "Then we will both present our terms, and we'll proceed from there. Is that fine with you, Akechi?"

"That's awfully generous of you," Akechi replies after a pause.

"We have a working relationship, Akechi," is Shido's reply, pleasant to the ear. "And have I ever been an unfair man towards you? Think about it, we'll reconvene next week."

"Goodbye," Akechi says, and not even a second later he's listening to a dial tone.

He's only just placed his phone on the table, debating on whether to do homework or take up Akira on his offer from earlier since the call ended much earlier than expected when it rings again.

Akechi glances down at the caller ID and picks it up immediately.

"Osumi-san? It's a pleasant surprise to hear from you… You've finally found some time to meet up? That is wonderful news. Wednesday night is fine with me as well, though Saito-san might find that inconvenient." Akechi listens. "Just the two of us this time then, if you're not uncomfortable. See you then."

* * *

"You what?!" Ann shrieks when Akira pulls out a stack of paper from his bag. It's after school on Monday at their hideout on the school rooftop, and both Ryuji and Morgana look at what Akira places on the spare tables with interest.

"Dude, this is amazing!" Ryuji's eyes are wide as he scans the notes. There are police records that are, Goro had told him, supposed to be confidential, plus a few more observations here and there that Goro had noted when he passed the streets. There're also some past records of Kamoshida when he was still an athlete, with a few hushed sex scandals. "Man, look at this! If this is true, wouldn't the reason why Kamoshida retired wasn't because he wanted a break from fame, but because he slept a reporter and gave her secret information? We can totally threaten him with this!"

"Where did you get all this, Akira?" Morgana asks blue eyes narrowed as he glances between the notes and him. "Are they trustworthy?"

"You said that you're friends with some guy in the _police?"_ Ann says, still a little too loudly.

"Ah, wait," Ryuji frowns as the words catch up to him. "Even after what they did to you?"

Akira stops curling his hair around his finger and looks at all of them.

"He's trustworthy. I knew him before my probation. And he's only technically part of the police since he's still an intern."

"An intern with so much information?" Morgana asks, sitting straight as one of his paws spreads the papers so that he could read more. "A lot of this is noted to have been hushed by the media as well. This guy is either very impressive, or he's lying to you."

Akira nearly sighs out loud and gives Goro a mental apology.

"He's the Detective Prince."

"Wait, who?" is Ryuji's first response, which isn't surprising really. Akira wouldn't watch half the shows Goro is in if he weren't featured. Half of them were morning shows, and the other half were either police-related, the news, or deeply political.

"You know _Goro Akechi?!_ " Ann shrieks in reply, before turning on Ryuji. "How can you not know him? He's the Second Coming of the Detective Prince! He's in the news every other week, and he recently revealed that corrupt minister a few weeks ago, it was a huge scandal! Shiho," and Ann falters before she continues. "Shiho and I once talked about him because he was the only non-entertainment celebrity to reach top ten in that ranking for top guys girls would want to date last month!"

"So he's really famous?" Morgana asks, swishing his tail even while Ryuji started frowning, muttering the name over and over. It was familiar somehow? Like, he'd heard of it before?

"Of course you've heard it before, Ryuji," Ann rolls her eyes. "Half the girls in your class probably talk about him at lunch. And yes, he's famous Morgana. In the article that Shiho and I read, not only did he get a top internship with an elite detective team when he was only in first year, he's also a top honour student. Now he's part of the team cracking down on those coma incidents."

"So he's very smart, huh," Morgana muses, looking down at the papers. "But I'm guessing that since he's a high-school student like us, he probably doesn't have a lot of power to actually close cases. So even if we have all of this information, if Kamoshida had enough power to snuff it out once, he can probably do it again."

"I mean, if we can plaster all of this on the internet, Kamoshida will have nowhere to run," Ryuji points out.

"But it's definitely easier for them to track something like this than stealing his Treasure in the Metaverse," Morgana points out, and Ryuji concedes.

"Yeah, good point. Even if we pull in someone like Mishima, I dunno about our chances of not gettin' found."

"I want to use this as a last resort," Akira says, not bothering to raise his voice. It's as quiet as always but miraculously, all three of them quiet down to listen to him. Akira takes a moment to take the three in – Ryuji, slightly jogging his leg up and down, Anne leaning casually on a desk, Morgana's wide blue eyes trained unblinkingly on him. Even though he was kind of shoehorned into becoming their leader, they already feel like a team and he's slightly alarmed at how quickly he's becoming fond of them. That he can even tentatively have friends here, though the circumstances that brought them together were odd.

"Yeah, bein' Phantom Thieves are way cooler, huh?" Ryuji grins, and Ann rolls her eyes.

"I doubt that's the reason, Ryuji."

"You're probably worried that using this will mean that your friend will get outed for helping you, right?" Morgana hits the nail on the head, and Akira nods. "You're a good friend, Joker. I appreciate you sharing this with us though. We'll proceed with our original plan first then. If stealing Kamoshida's heart doesn't work out, then we can always use this to gain justice. I'm sure stealing his heart will work though!" Morgana rushes to assure them all. "Trust me!"

"You've always been a lil' shifty, cat," Ryuji narrows his eyes at him, and Morgana bares his teeth. Ann is the one looking over the papers now, her face stretching into one of disgust whenever she sees something particularly disgusting in the pile of information Goro had sent him.

"I still can't believe you know Goro Akechi, Akira!" Ann says as she finishes. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"It was a meeting of fate," Akira replies seriously, and Ann laughs even as she stacks all the paper back into one neat pile and hands it back to Akira.

"Keep that safe, leader! I'll head out now, I want to visit Shiho before it gets too late."

"Say hi to Suzui for me," Ryuji immediately looks away from his staring contest with a cat. "We all send our best wishes, okay?" Akira nods solemnly next to him, and Ann's smile is less wobbly than it was yesterday.

"Yep, got it! See you guys tomorrow!"

* * *

Hinata's apartment isn't in the best neighbourhood, but it isn't the worst that it could be. It's an old block, built when Japan was widely industrialising after World War II for the sake of manufacturers. It's not the most convenient locale in comparison to human hubs like Shibuya. The stairs are sticky under his feet as he climbs since the elevator is out of service when he tries it. The walls are filled with graffiti and trash in the corners, but he reaches the fifth floor safely enough.

When he rings the bell, he doesn't need to wait for long before he hears a hurried 'Coming!' and the door unlocking.

"Akechi-kun, you're right on time. Sorry, I just finished a shower," Hinata welcomes him in, towel still around her neck as she backs away for him to have space in the shoe box. The door locks automatically behind him as Akechi toes off his shoes and enters.

"Thank you for your invitation, Osumi-san," Akechi says, offering the bag in his hand. "This isn't much, but please consider this my housewarming gift."

Hinata takes the bag and peers inside. It's a collection of dishware and cutlery for children rated the most highly on the site that Akechi bought it on. Since the quality was good and the characters chosen were cute, Akechi hadn't put much thought and bought it.

Hinata closes the bag carefully, however, her hands shaking.

"Thank you so much, Akechi-kun. Um, I don't have much but please make yourself at home."

She bustles inside, waving Akechi forward past a small strip of a kitchen to the main living and dining room. There, Shion is placed on a cushion on a small couch, tucked in the corner to support his body in a way he doesn't seem interested in, as he's gurgling and trying to topple over. Hinata's general air of nervousness fades a little when she sees Shion waving his arms.

"He's been having a lot of fun rolling around everywhere lately," Hinata shares as she waves him to a chair and brings him a cup of water. "So I've been trying to place him in corners so that he doesn't roll somewhere I can't see when I have to be somewhere else."

Shion's cheeks are fat, black hair growing in a thick shock that sticks straight upwards. He's now watching the small television in front of him in a daze. Akechi estimates he'll probably drool soon if he doesn't close that mouth in the next minute or so.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes!" Hinata calls over her shoulder, and Akechi stands to help. That's greeted with a rapid flutter of her hands urging him to sit back down. The tight nervous energy that's wound around her continues even as she bustles towards the kitchen.

"Osumi-san, am I doing anything that's making you so nervous?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," Hinata says, carefully coming out holding a large dish of food. "Just, it's the first time anyone's in my apartment. Isn't it shabby?"

"It's perfectly fine," Akechi says with an understanding smile. "Especially considering your circumstances, I'm impressed, Osumi-san. You've put a lot of effort into making this space yours."

There are photographs on the walls already, hanging from cheap plastic frames of a few pictures of Shion that's obviously printed from her phone. There's an old bouquet of flowers in the corner, with a card attached that he can read from here – a welcome gift to her new job. The tables and chairs, as well as the sofa and television, are all obviously second hand, but carefully chosen all the same.

Hinata has obviously tried to make it her home as much as she could.

"Thanks, I worked really hard on it. Now I hope you don't dislike beans?"

They have beans, rice, a few vegetables and a slice of fish each. It's a fare that Akechi hasn't eaten for a while – not only because it's freshly cooked, but because the quality of the ingredient (a little old, a little stale) hold a sense of nostalgia with them.

Shion is dribbling his food everywhere, and half of Hinata's meal is just wiping his mouth.

God, babies.

The moment Shion is let free of his chair, he stretches his arms and legs and starts dragging himself straight into Akechi's leg. Then black, beady eyes stare up at him, and arms rose up in a plea to…

Akechi sighs and picks up this flabby warm thing, and places him right back into the deep sofa corner where Shion stares at Akechi petulantly, blowing a bubble of snot from his nose.

Yeah, no. He backs away quite quickly and scrolls on his phone until Hinata's finished with the dishes. The kitchen is too small for two people, and Hinata had firmly insisted that guests were not going to help with chores on her watch.

The two settle down soon enough, cycling through topics. Hinata shares enough about her new job, "Everyone is really nice," she insists. "It's kind of an upscale hotel, so I was really surprised I got a job. It pays really well too, so when I get my deposit back I might be able to move to a new apartment."

"I'm glad you seem to have such a good working environment," is Akechi's response, as he watches Hinata fiddle with the tablecloth, her eyes wandering off Akechi before snapping back. Somewhere along in their conversation, she stands up to drag Shion into her arms, cradling him on her lap as he spouted some babble and drooled on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, Osumi-san," Akechi says in the middle of a long, nervous ramble. "Perhaps next time it will be more comfortable for you if we also have Saito-san alongside the visit.

"No, it's really not your fault!" Hinata insists, and confusingly enough the statement feels genuine. "I'm just, it's just a lot of stress! Yeah, juggling being Shion's mother and working fulltime while maintaining the house is a lot more stressful than I thought, even if I do live in a shoebox."

When Akechi glances around the apartment, Hinata adds, "I don't think I remember the last time I relaxed, to be honest."

"If Saito-san heard that, she would advise you not to burn out," Akechi says, trying to regain a little of that carefree atmosphere they had achieved when she was still working at the café. "Speaking personally as a child who came from a single-parent family, I'll also advise you to take a break."

"But I can't," Hinata says, hand twisting into Shion's onesie before abruptly letting go. "There's so little time in a day, Akechi-kun! And, um, cleaning, washing, planning the groceries, doing budget every week while still being there for Shion. I sometimes feel like I'm not doing enough to be the perfect mother that I know I need to be."

"Osumi-san, that's where you're wrong. This is something that I wish someone could have told my mother since she cared about appearances and was a bit of a perfectionist…" Akechi trails off, thinking of soft lips that sometimes kissed his forehead. Thin-skinned and petty. "But you don't have to be perfect to be a mother."

Beautiful, insecure, and slightly callous when she was trying to protect herself. Akechi's mother had bemoaned her circumstances first and guilted herself every single time she did something 'unmotherlike' until it was too late. She had no-one to depend on except the fleeting promise of Shido. To think that Akechi could be some sort of help to Hinata did, in a sense, fill him with a sense of justice. Validation.

"And perfect varies by standards, so all you need to do is find your own balance and keep trying. Saito and I are happy to help, as always."

"Why?" Hinata replies, head ducked low. Shion slaps a small hand against her neck, but she doesn't seem to care. "I've only been a burden to the two of you if I think about it. I'm a scandal waiting to happen for your identity as a Detective Prince and you know it, and I only ever keep asking for favours from Saito."

"Rumours are just rumours, and they don't affect my true abilities, Osumi-san," Akechi replies easily. Shido wouldn't let anyone touch his Detective Prince status since he's the main conspirator arranging the coma accusations behind the scenes, so that was well-protected. "And Saito enjoys connecting and helping people. Inviting her to a meal like this would be more than enough to make her happy."

The next breath in is wet.

"Did I upset you, Osumi-san?"

"No," Hinata replies. "I'm just. Really happy that you guys are there for me. You guys are my precious friends too, okay? I'll invite Saito-san over too next time, we can talk over dinner—"

Hinata jumps when the loud tones of a text message ring through the air, face paling. "Oh yeah, Akechi-kun. Do you like Shion?" She asks abruptly, and Akechi blinks at the sudden change in the conversation, glancing down at this younger sibling of his in her arms.

The baby is laughing at something that only he sees in the air between his eyes and the ceiling, clapping as much as he could, and Akechi wonders if he'd looked just as stupid when he was that age.

"He's… certainly grown. I'm sure he'll soon grow into a wonderful person like yourself, Hinata-san." Akechi considers carefully, before he puts on a serious smile. There's a sense of hidden trepidation for her next answer. "Do you love Shion?"

"Of course." Hinata hugs Shion tightly, without hesitation. "I think he's the one light I have left in my world sometimes."

She kisses him on the forehead, and Shion squirms in her grip. It gives Akechi a bittersweet feeling as he bows and leaves, returning back down through the dingy stairway and back into the bustle of Shibuya at night. Trendily dressed women and men walk the streets, knowing that it's their time of youth now that all the business people are sleeping in preparation for the new day. They swing into bars and pubs and clubs tucked away in shadier corners, twenty-something and living at their best. And Akechi breathes out, thinking of Hinata sitting alone in front of her small television, hugging Shion, door locked tight against intruders and uniform pressed and ready hanging from the door.

Akechi looks up at Tokyo evening smog, the darkness above the veil of city light.

He knows best, how the world can be cruelly unfair.

**Tower Rank 5 – Hinata Osumi**

* * *

On Sunday Shido presents his terms.

It's simple. It's just one photograph.

Within that photograph is the figure of a daycare carer, smiling as she held Shion in her arms.

He recognises that woman. She's one of Shido's people, her name and face often show up in the reports that Akechi organises for Shido when he asks.

Shido only says one, simple thing.

**What are your terms, Akechi?**

Akechi clenches his phone to the point that his fingertips are a blotchy red and white.

Akechi thinks of precious things that he does not want to give up. He has a goal in this life, to change. To win. He thinks of integrity, justice, strength and dark curling hair on a rainy day. The memory of that challenging smirk that had risen and risen again, because they had always been so similar in the ways that mattered. They were the type to push, resist, fight, and survive because a loss was only a setback to victory. Akechi has always done whatever it took to crush his opponents, to advance his goals.

But he remembers Hinata's face and the only moment she relaxed, kissing Shion's forehead, face transforming into wonder when Shion butted his head back and gurgled.

When he closes his eyes, he hears a determined voice, the waft of broth and bright warmth. _You've got to love something to truly live!'_

He sees a lopsided smile with eyes crinkled and fond. _'Because it's the right thing to do'._

 _'I didn't expect you to be so soft'_ Shido had accused, and Akechi breathes out hard when he realises how right he had been. This would never have been a problem in the past when he had stared at Shido and Shido alone.

He looks at his phone that Sunday and all the reasons and preparations he made during the week are not enough for the one life in that woman's hands.

When had Akechi become a person who couldn't bring himself to rip a baby from his loving mother? Now Shido knows what to press when he wishes to refuse a request. Akechi concedes this time, and he knows he will concede the next and the next and the next.

Then there is only one solution available, Akechi thinks as he grinds his teeth in sheer _anger_.

He has to extract Hinata Osumi from Shido's grasp.

**Devil Rank 4 - Masayoshi Shido**

* * *

So, Akira asks himself after another night of banging his fingers in to make lockpicks, two weeks and he's already, what. Became a cognitive thief, became the leader of a cognitive thief band, confronted abuse, made two friends (and a cat), fought a few monsters and some and was now waiting for Kamoshida to finally come to terms with the meaning of guilt so that Ann could bitch-slap him in public. He's also been talking to a long-nosed guy in his dreams with two small girls that like to look down their nose at him, alongside the other weird dreams that Akira has decided were of... the future?

Morgana purrs from the side of his head, warm and smelling slightly of coffee, and Akira wishes he had some normality.

[Akira Kurusu: Hey, I know you're busy but]

[Akira Kurusu: You have time for a movie tomorrow?]

[Goro Akechi: Your text came at the perfect time. I was finding that I needed a break myself. Shibuya or Shinjuku?]

[Akira Kurusu: Shibuya. See you after school.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papaja drew Saito, Akechi is a hoodie and Atsuzawa! They all look amazing, I'm so sorry I don't have the braincells right now to give you a proper review, but thank you so much! Here's the link for it, please check it out if you wish:  
> https://limonthy.tumblr.com/post/620921386611982336/some-stuff-i-drew-for-colbubs-persona-5  
> D_Maradine drew Akechi hugging two floofy dogs, I'm weak for Akechi hugging floof, thank you so much for allowing me to visualise this. I really love it! Please check it out if you wish:  
> https://mara-dine.tumblr.com/post/619743927344431104/i-was-processing-smoothly-and-then-there-was-this
> 
> Otherwise guys im so sorry this chapter feels long and has a lot of talking and concepts and Kamoshida's arc is probably going to finish by next chapter and omg YUSUKE but if this has a lot of problems its because my week was a lot busier and I wrote my whole chapter plan in like a day, and some of the story notes but I wanted to get to where i wished to after one lovely dude said to be not afraid of long chapters so uh here you go. i most definitely have to edit in the week this week ngaa  
> You guys tell me this story gives you joy, but your comments give me joy guys. thank you so much ;_; I need to draw some plot threads together next chapter, and Akira is as hard to write as always. he's so shy but not shy and assertive and not assertive and flirty and not flirty with Akechi and gosh. please make up your mind i know you're still a milquetoast but darling pls


	26. Chapter 26

If Ann had been hired as a teen model because she had been the perfect mix of mature beauty and cheerful charm, with blue eyes a light crystal and hair voluminous enough to drape over her shoulders in an attractive wave, Ann as an adult is a near overwhelming sight.

Having taken care of her health and body ever since she swore to be a better model (with the occasional stacked crepe or two with the girls), Ann is a common vision on the billboards and large advertisement screens. She winks and smiles in the perfume advertisement that Akira watches from Shibuya crossing, crimson painted lips a fleeting curve as she turns around in her sheer evening gown. A glimpse of her shoulder shows before a tumble of light blonde hair shifts across her back in the small breeze. She's the only one in the moonlight, the only colour in the dark of the shimmering mist, before the logo of the perfume shows up and the advertisement stops.

It's one of the longest-running ads that Akira has ever seen – the campaign was so phenomenally successful that perfume sales had nearly been out of stock for six months straight and this had only been Ann's second international advertisement. Before, if she had any jobs for America or Japan, the campaigns would be a more local issue. This time they had judged that it was worth displaying this advertisement in all the countries this brand had a store for, and it had rolled out as a phenomenon.

All Ann had said though, through a mouthful of Le Blanc curry, was a happy laugh, shrugging it off. "Those thirty seconds took five hours to shoot!" She'd said with joking exasperation before she leaned over his shoulder to look at plant germination facts with him.

Although her image as a model had become much more high-end, her widespread appeal to the youth also came from her active social media with her cheerful tweets and jokes. It was what caught her current manager's eye in the first place – her new company had operated on more traditional business models and wanted to diversify their appeal with their newest investment. Ann had been an experiment for them, but she had taken the challenge with her usual determination.

"I'm going to do it, Akira!" She had said to him, fist pumped up and smile wide. Her eyes crinkled into happy crescents. "I'm going to show both you and Shiho just how strong I've become!"

All the Phantom Thieves had collectively lived through what she experienced the few months after that. Her manager appreciated her, for sure, but she was apparently also an 'extreme hardass' as Ann put it one evening, groaning about packed schedules and too much travel. Akira and Haru had both been on 'supportive friend tea + coffee duty', as the two plied their wilted friends (mostly Makoto and Ann, and sometimes Futaba from social fatigue) with drinks and food when they managed to drag themselves in through the door.

Shibuya crossing isn't that much different in the future, Akira notes somewhere distant. The shops he's sees in his time are mostly still there, the people are still crossing the street in hordes. It's strangely comforting to know how static some things are no matter how the years pass.

"Akira!" Ann waves now, and he looks to the side where Ann is wearing a long summer dress that flows straight down to her ankles, comfortably loose except for a single decorative chain cinched around her waist. It seems like it's a season for a light cornflower blue because that's her main theme today – the accessories in her hair, the delicate patterns on her dress that he sees now she's come closer. "Shiho's at the teahouse already, let's go!"

She's left her hair down and it shines nearly white underneath the strong sun, some strands floating silver when she chatters away with her usual topics of choice – the eateries that she's had an eye on for her next 'indulgence day' ('which is next week!' She says excitedly), and how she's looking forward to meeting Shiho again.

They enter a modern-fusion teashop, the rich smell of tea leaves hitting their faces when they enter. It's not as coldly air-conditioned that it hit Akira with a wave of immediate relief from the summer, but the both of them don't mind when they saw Shiho Suzui sitting in a corner booth laughing with another boy. Akira's younger eyes are relieved when he sees Shiho awake, fully recovered and doing well.

"Shiho!" Ann waves, weaving through the store in a beeline. By the time she's there, Shiho has stood up and they hug tightly, saying a few murmuring words Akira can't hear as he catches up and slides into his own seat, nodding at the other boy who greets him by name. They all seem familiar as the four settle down to chat – Shiho's boyfriend is a mild-looking fellow with a sarcastic sense of humour that keeps the whole table laughing, and time flies by with recurring orders of cake and tea.

Shiho leaves when it gets darker, citing that she needs to prepare for a family dinner. She extends invitations to the both of them, but Ann shakes her head regretfully, saying that she has a night-time shoot, and Akira follows suit.

They both watch as Shiho holds hands with her boyfriend, comfortably leaning into each other as they exit and Ann sighs wistfully, smile satisfied after such a nice catchup.

"I wonder when I'll get a boyfriend like that?" Ann muses, and Akira is – one set of feelings is slightly teasing, his face curling up into a small Cheshire grin. The other set is strangely relieved that he doesn't seem to be dating Ann after all.

Not that, of course, Ann isn't wonderful. She deserves nothing but the best.

"So none of those seventeen online boyfriend claims were true after all?" he asks, and Ann whacks his arm playfully.

"No, stupid," she grins. "I checked out one of their posts and as if I'd ever date someone who called my skin 'delicate like the skin of gossamer tofu', like, what even is that?"

Akira mouths 'gossamer tofu' to himself and Ann catches it, and they both end up laughing again.

"For real though," Ann says as she notices that the teashop switched on their lights for the encroaching evening, servers changing shifts. "I'll need to prepare for that night shoot soon. Someone's going to pick me up near my apartment, and your university is on the way there, right?"

Akira nods and they leave as well, entering back into the ever-present movement of the Tokyo metropolis. The sky is streaked with pink, now that they're outside, and the street they're on is more on the well-to-do side. Large glass shopfronts are switching on their lights, spilling out onto the dry concrete in colourful squares and lighting up the world in panes of rainbow. Somewhere, Akira will always miss the quiet of the countryside – the blanket of stars, the rattle of wind from unseen trees up the mountain – but sometimes the city has beauty that strikes him unexpectedly, even after so many years.

Perhaps he's just a little sentimental that way.

"I'm so glad I could catch up with you too, Akira," Ann is saying, the two sticking close as they walk. Akira cleaned up today just for her – and he's not ashamed to say he knows he looks good. They turn heads, and Akira anticipates another wave of _'are they really just friends?'_ that always happens when someone catches them together. Ann always suppresses them though – one of her contract terms stipulates that her private life was to be protected, and even her manager respects how fiercely Ann cherishes her friends. "Before I leave for America again."

Ann bites her lip in the way she does when she's thinking of something unpleasant. Akira takes that in with a tilt of his head, before slowing down his steps and letting her take the time she needs. They've known each other long enough, confided in all the emotions and matters that only history and pure understanding can achieve. He trusts she'll tell him how he could help.

"…I'm glad you got that extra contract," Akira offers when the silence stretches too long.

"Yeah, me too," Ann say, nodding. "It's just that, you know it all already, but my popularity is growing faster in the States now. There's also a bigger market, so the company is thinking of moving me there… more permanently."

Akira takes that with little surprise. It's something they've been hedging around for months.

"That successful modelling dream is right around the corner now, Akira," Ann is saying. Her lipstick faded during their tea catch up, and she didn't bother re-applying it. It's her normal soft pink, and she's biting them again. "I… Shouldn't I be happier than this?"

Akira tilts his head, examining her. Then he cuts to the chase, directly addressing the issue that he isn't sure Ann has quite gotten yet.

"It's alright to leave us behind, Ann. We'll always be here for you."

Ann blinks, registers his words, and something clicks in place as her eyes widen before going straight into a frown.

"But I don't want to leave you behind. Shiho too, or the rest of the Thieves," Ann says. "The only reason I became a model in the first place was to show you and Shiho just how strong I can be. To become someone you guys can look at and rely on."

"You'll always be an inspiration to us," Akira replies, eyes wandering forward. His voice is as measured and soft as always, as he tries to say his thoughts concisely. "Taking this step means you can be an inspiration to more people. Isn't that your dream?"

And yes it was, both he and Ann knows. She wants to be a pillar of strength, wants to inspire her friends with her own dreams. But somewhere along the line that transformed into a desire to inspire more than that, to reach out to all the other boys and girls who struggled with finding the strength to step forward, to be stronger and more confident. To take that next step, Ann would have to leave where she'd long left her heart – her seat at Le Blanc, her bickering with the Thieves, her indulgence days with Shiho and the girls, and the very reason why she embarked on this road the first place.

Ann has always been a person with simple needs, but that didn't mean her thoughts didn't have layers, that she didn't have concerns and aspirations and dreams that lay underneath the surface. She loves her friends from the bottom of her heart. She loves her job. It's an irreconcilable conflict that makes Akira just feel slightly sad, that their problems have finally reached this point. That he can't just snap a finger, say a few words and solve it anymore.

They reach her apartment, and Akira hugs her just as hard when she leans in to give him a goodbye squeeze.

"Why can't all of this be easy?" Ann asks as she withdraws, her smile still as beautiful as ever. It's a smile that can light up any room, a smile that makes Akira blink twice still, when he feels the press of her genuine happiness. In its shadow are creases of resignation. She knows her friends will wait for her forever if need be.

Her career won't.

Akira will miss her. He will miss her _so much_.

"Take care, Ann."

"Bye, Akira!" Ann waves, and steps into the sleek black van that has been idling patiently for them to say their farewells. Her manager in the van nods at him with a smile, before closing the door.

Akira watches her leave before turning to walk back alone, accompanying his older self as he trudges down the rest of the path breathing in the summer humidity. He doesn't know what his older self is thinking, though he can guess from the mix of emotions in his chest.

The university truly isn't far, though Akira does spend a little more time skirting through the campus to the back-reaches. He opens the door to an old greenhouse with keys that he digs out from his bag and steps inside. Dim lights switch on, and Akira leaves the dream after watching his older self dig fingers into the soil, face concentrated as he carefully measures gauges and notes down numbers he doesn't understand.

Akira wakes up with the lingering echoes of bittersweetness in his chest, with Morgana somehow migrated to lie over his neck as he slept. His tail curls over his nose. Gently lifting Morgana off so he could breathe better, Akira gets up and reaches for his phone to stare at his contacts list for a while.

Then, with thoughts in his mind, he stretches and gets up, preparing to start the day ahead.

  


* * *

  


Akechi usually spends Sundays in the Metaverse – either in Wakaba's Mementos room to stock up on his inventory or roaming around the new depths he can achieve after becoming the Detective Prince. It's not as difficult as it could be – there are shortcuts from each rest station to the entrance that makes navigating the different stretches of Mementos easier, but it is still generally time-consuming as he searches out people Shido want to target.

Akira had both Futaba and Morgana to indicate where Shadows could be. All Akechi had was a hunch from Morrigan's half-helpful (generally confused) guesses and Robin Hood's utterly useless optimistic bursts of encouragement.

His usual Sunday occupations make it easier for Akechi to sneak out for the afternoon, however, having lucked out and found Shido's target – an old congressman who had stubbornly withheld information about some dubious policies that were implemented some seven years back – on only the second layer of Mementos.

It lets him leave Wakaba's room early, unloading any loot he found in a growing pile of trash in the corner (Akira had been one of those people who couldn't leave a piece of loot behind, and would probably like it if he gave it all as a gift later) before slipping back up into Shibuya station.

He brought a loose cap today that he pulls over his light-coloured hair. His jumper today is one of Saito's hand-made ones from last Christmas, a thick affair of grey wool with cartoon trees growing out from the bottom. It swallows him like none of his usual fashion choices does, and alongside a pair of black jeans and a casual gait, he doesn't think even Shido's agents will place him as their first suspect as 'Goro Akechi', the image-conscious detective extraordinaire.

Akira is standing at the end of Central Street, hands in his pockets as he examines the movie selection available. He already has his bag slung over his shoulder, a familiar cat's head sticking out to peer at the movie selections with him.

"Hmm, it seems we're just in time to see Tanktop Millionaire," comes Morgana's childish tones. "It's a story about a boy who became a 'Tanktop Millionaire' from the money he won from a quiz show…"

Akira hasn't acknowledged him yet when he tilts his head towards Morgana, thinking.

"There aren't any horror movies," Akira says, eyes roving over the movie selection on display again, and Morgana sighs.

"I mean, I bet you can also improve your guts if you watch a horror movie, but is that what you really want to watch when you're watching a movie with someone?"

Akechi takes a moment to indulge in nostalgia – Akira has always been less fashion-conscious than the rest of them, and the black jacket, shirt and loose jeans combo is probably the only casual outfit in his closet – before he carefully notes to himself to ignore everything Morgana says and steps up.

"Hello, Akira-kun," Akechi smiles, one of his brighter ones when Akira turns around and blinks. Then he blinks again when he looks at Akechi in his cap and jumper before Morgana gives a slight whistle.

"He sure looks different from TV," Morgana says. "This is your detective ace friend, Goro Akechi, right? I thought he'd come in a suit or something."

Akira nods slightly to Morgana, before visibly stilling himself and swallowing. Since Akira was obviously marshalling his thoughts, Akechi doesn't take offence as he lets his eyes drift naturally to the blue eyes peering over Akira's shoulder.

"Did you adopt a cat already, Akira-kun?" He laughs, stepping closer and reaching out a hand as if Morgana was any other cat. "Is it friendly to pats?"

Akira nods, and Akechi does something he has never done – pet Morgana.

Morgana's fur is surprisingly soft, warm like all animals are. He sees why Futaba's first greeting is always to pinch Morgana's cheeks – there's a surprising amount of fluff that makes Akechi slightly curious how Morgana would look wet.

"His name is Morgana," Akira offers, stepping a little closer to let Akechi have easier access to his bag. Morgana himself has at least pretended to like the scratches Akechi is doing around his neck. Standing close like this, he can smell the public bath soaps that often steamed out in clouds opposite Le Blanc from Akira. It's distinctly familiar, a smell that feels homey and safe, and the adrenaline that always accompanies Akechi out of Mementos calms down a little alongside it.

"Hello, Morgana," Akechi smiles down at Morgana's large blue eyes that were watching him with uncanny intelligence, before stepping back out of Akira's personal space. "Isn't Morgana the name of King Arthur's half-sister from Arthurian legend? Why name your cat with a female name, Akira-kun?"

"Hey!" Morgana yelps, visibly bristling. "It's a perfectly manly name, thank you very much!"

Akira's face breaks away from its neutrality into a small smirk.

"It's a perfectly manly name, apparently," Akira says, teasing as he adjusts the bag on his shoulder to a startled squawk from Morgana before he nods at Akechi's attire. "You look different today."

"Ah, my apologies if I look out-of-sorts," Akechi replies, flattening the soft wool of the jumper with his hands. "I've been getting a lot of attention in the public when I go outside in my school uniform or my more professional wear for my internship lately, and I didn't wish to include that bother on our outing today. This jumper doesn't seem very 'Goro Akechi-like', so I wore this out instead."

Akira shakes his head with a small smile. "No, you look good. I was just surprised. Do you want to watch Tanktop Millionaire? There're no horror movies on right now."

Did Akira like horror movies in particular? Akechi wonders while agreeing. It's not as if he agreed to Akira's outing for the sake of any particular movie anyway.

The movie theatre is moderately seated, though the row they pick has enough empty seats that Akira can place Morgana on the seat on the other side of him. Akira is a quiet watcher – Akechi would expect nothing else, with Akira's intense focus on anything he does – but Morgana is unexpectedly chatty. In any particular scene that strikes his fancy, Morgana would say a comment or muse on someone's characterisation, and many tense scenes were ruined by Morgana's outraged cries of 'how could he do that?!'.

It's not as if the movie is unappealing – it's a foreign film, and Akechi's familiar enough with English to follow most of the film without relying too much on the subtitles. The family depicted in the film struggled with his own circumstances in a world split into hierarchies borne of extreme capitalist wealth. Tanktop Millionaire is a story of a boy's courage despite a life of desperation and despair, of transcending barriers that no-one thought he could overcome. Of believing in himself despite all the spiteful people around him.

He doesn't solve any of the societal problems that birthed his circumstances, nor does he do anything revolutionary with the money that he wins. The money is just a means to an end in a film filled with discrimination and extreme poverty.

"How does a little kid have guts like that?" He hears Morgana ask. Akechi watches the boy in front of him protest against the police and has an easy answer.

Desperation.

When you only had one chance and you'd rather burn to ashes instead of fading out of the one thing you care for, there's nothing you wouldn't do.

When the Bollywood number finishes the movie on an optimistic note, Akira doesn't move from his seat even when the credits roll. There's a tiny shift in his body language, in his thoughtful look as he watches the names crawl up the screen that has Akechi curious.

"What did you think of the film, Akira-kun?" Akechi asks.

Even though the theatre turned up the lights and most of their fellow movie watchers have started to clear the theatre, Akira still somehow exists in a small bubble of quiet calm when he turns his head to look at him. His hair has grown out a little to cover his eyes, but the directness of his unblinking gaze still unfailingly rivets him in place to listen as Akira rolls the question through his head.

"I liked it," is all Akira offers. Akechi immediately stifles his amused laugh at such an answer. He's always aware that Morgana is watching them curiously, tail swishing as he makes his own conclusions, and he doesn't want to make too large of a first impression. Akechi puts Morgana's judgment aside for now as he puts his full attention on Akira.

"Nothing more?" Akechi asks, and Akira frowns a little, eyes flicking back to the credits.

"What did you think?" Akira asks, and Akechi turns to face the screen himself.

"It's obviously meant to be an inspiring story," Akechi muses. "Despite how all the people in his society decided to see his life, perhaps in spite of what life he's been born into, he doesn't give up on the matters that he cares for. It's a tale of once in a lifetime odds that doesn't shy away from the brutal reality that he lives in. As a personal, human-centric story, I find that I appreciate it as well," Akechi says to Akira's attentive ears. "Japan's circumstances are obviously very different, but some parts of the narrative strike chords within me."

Akira reads between the lines, dark eyes intent. "Not the whole story?"

"I usually read reviews and such for films," Akechi admits. "I'm more of a reader than anything else, books, articles and otherwise. It's often because when I read books the issues that are presented in front of me are much less prominent as sources of entertainment. Although we watched a journey of a boy overcoming harsh circumstances and attaining his wishes despite overwhelming odds, the reality of those harsh circumstances remains unaddressed. Although we see horrifying injustice, we will hardly think of ways to enact longer-lasting social change, global, locally or otherwise."

Akira takes that in, western pop filling the air between them before the song transitions into one of the more wistful pieces of the film's soundtrack.

"Exposure is important," Akira says, ultimately, before nudging Akechi's elbow. "I don't know how accurate the movie is, but it was interesting to learn a little about someone I'd never be."

Akira pauses, before he continues, leaning in a little until their shoulders touch.

"I think it's enough if you watch something like this and resolve yourself to be a better person," is what Akira says next. "Art is a personal experience – it's as political as you make it."

Akira's curls are surprisingly close when he turns his head to answer.

"You always tend to surprise me, Akira-kun," Akechi says, nudging Akira to sit straight in a move that is ignored, as Akira continues to slouch sideways. "Most would flounder when I introduce such subjective topics such as the political agenda of entertainment, but you always have your own, clear-cut answers."

Akira blinks up at him. The angle shifts the light onto the length of his eyelashes before a tilt of his head hides his eyes.

"You shouldn't expect so much from others," is Akira's inexplicable answer. "You can't shape another's opinions, so all you can do is shape your own."

Akechi blinks, before laughing.

"Ah, but Akira-kun. Our expectations of others are how relationships work. What's the solution when you're still idealistic enough to expect at least some semblance of goodness from every stranger you meet?"

"Don't get disappointed when people aren't as you thought," is Akira's steady reply, with nary a pause.

Akechi swallows, looking away like he was interested in the infinite scroll of names in front of them.

"So even if you found out that your friend was actually a horrible criminal?" Akechi asks, and he feels Akira's slight shrug against his arm.

"It doesn't invalidate the friendship," Akira replies as the credits seem to finally close, music flaring into some orchestral finale. "It just means that they didn't trust me enough to tell me yet."

 _Trust_ again.

Something in the back of Akechi's mind is hysterically laughing, his smile a pasted warm thing as he truly registers the heavy warmth from that one spot on his shoulder. A warmth who is _Akira_ , finally in Tokyo where he belongs, the man of friendships, open hands, and acceptance no matter how deep the hurt goes. It is insufferable how admirable his values are whenever Akechi digs down.

It's even more insufferable when he knows that unlike many others, Akira has never been a hypocrite. Each and every one of those values was actionable in his daily life.

"You truly are…" Akechi trails off, his voice managing to stay calm as he lifts one hand that threatens to tremble.

But Morgana is there watching them with uncanny interest, so he forcefully clenches his hand over Akira's shoulder and pushes him off gently.

"The credits have finished, we should make way for the next round," Akechi says, and Akira gets up with a roll of his head, letting Morgana jump back into the bag before slinging it over his shoulder. They chatter as they head out into the late afternoon, Central Street greeting them with a wave of noise from the previous cool silence of the theatre. Akechi pulls his hat low.

"Thank you for your invitation, Akira-kun," Akechi smiles now, turning back to face Akira. "It's come at quite a stressful time in my life, and I didn't realise just how much I needed some friendly company. Your company is a pleasure, as always."

There's a brief moment when Akira freezes as his eyes focus somewhere else before he responds with a small smile.

"Anytime."

Akechi leaves then, walking down one of the side streets instead of straight back down to the Shibuya underground. He hears Morgana's voice before he rounds the corner, however.

"He's an interesting guy, isn't he? I see you're good friends already. I've never heard you talk so much!"

Akira replies softly, and Morgana's bright voice laughs.

"Reeaally now? I've never seen you so touchy with anyone, you know… All right, let's go home."

**Fool Rank 3 – Akira Kurusu**

  


* * *

  


Shido's Palace is an immense and overwhelming expanse of ruin and wreckage underneath a beautiful sunset of oranges and purples and reds. The clouds cover the world in a roiling blanket of golds and pinks that's reflected off the crystal waves swallowing the world, only dipping into burnt darkness at the edge of a horizon hinting at the inexorable night. This cruise exists in the last hour of the last day, a beacon and haven for the surviving elite from the oncoming threat of the unknown. It's beautifully symbolic in a way that surprises him. Many Palaces are twisted and cruel affairs, hiding torture dungeons, traps, corpses and dark secrets.

He stands at the very tip of the bow and breathes in the salt air, the lights of the Diet Building behind him chasing shadows out of the sky. Waves part and splash, and the ship cruises ever onward to a destination that no-one can fathom, over the watery mirages of crumbled and destroyed buildings that have sunk under a rippling sea. Something in this destruction always strikes something in him; a tragic beauty that Akechi can't ever deny when he visits Shido's Palace.

If he cared to waste thoughts on Shido, Akechi would wonder what Shido thought constituted that burgeoning night if the world was already in ruin.

But he's wasted enough time, so he turns around and walks inside. The doors of the Diet Building part and he enters Shido's Palace, transforming into Robin's regalia.

As Shido often does, he gives Akechi a time frame to accomplish his tasks rather than a solid deadline. In a move of faux kindness, Shido has given him until the first week of May to finish it.

Time with Akira cleared his anger enough from his original rage at seeing Shion being held in the hands of Shido's spy. Enough so to realise that no war has ever been fought without information.

No preparation, no plan is ever complete without enough intelligence, and to save Hinata with the least compromise to himself, he needs something _more_. Something foolproof.

The reception is as dazzling and opulent as he remembers, even though there are fewer patrons than before. Shido had made his informational services a business much like how he'd sold his mental breakdowns from his past life, and has successfully gathered more than a few supporters this way. However, his limited uses have had a greater effect than he expected – instead of the dozens of people that stood around the reception, there are only five or six.

"I'm so honoured to be allowed on Congressman Shido's ship!" One of the ladies laughs as he passes. "It's still early days to be part of this ark, so I'm sure we'll all have more opportunities to rise before any others get here."

"We're all in this together," a man nods with enthusiasm. "Shido-san has the undoubted power to rise up against all the others, so it was smart of us to join his cause so early."

Their praises circle one another, not to be outdone, and Akechi steps boldly through the middle, right up the golden staircases to the main hallway. The Shadows in Shido's Palace ignore him when they see him pass, some of the ones holding food and drink even offering him some.

"Where's the IT President?" He asks one of the Shadows, and the Shadow bows before pointing the way towards the VIP residential rooms. Akechi's smile has a touch of irony as he passes it. How amusing. Even though their relationship had broken down so much, Shido still subconsciously gave him a level of importance and authority in his affairs.

Akechi goes about his rounds, recognising most of the faces he meets. Chigusa loitering near the bar, a thin man with a vicious streak who had authority over choosing what TV shows would air every season. Akimoto, a large balding man who had been pulled in by Shido's promises for blackmail material against his mother so that he could become the next heir of his company. Sano, a beautiful woman who was also the secretary of one of the Prime Minister's aides. He even sees Okumura surrounded by his own crowd of enamoured cognitions, hanging onto his every word as he proudly boasted of Big Bang Burger's annual growth.

Various others, less impressive, chatter amongst themselves. The restaurant is already cordoned, explicitly stated to only cater for VIP guests, but the Shadow presents no resistance when Akechi walks through.

He gleans enough just overhearing the Shadows and cognitions in the restaurant talk. Some marvel over Shido's impressive grasp of information ( _'there is nothing he can't find out!'_ One of the women squeals in excitement), while others boasted that Shido had allowed them to use a precious comatose event, basking in the admiration of the others from what they saw as blatant favour.

"The transport minister is such a pain," politician Ooe complains. "He's been blocking my proposals for the last year because he keeps saying the changes don't benefit the public. That's a stupid idea when we can line our own pockets instead, right?"

"I completely understand," Akechi nods at his dinner table, waving the server over for more wine. The Pinot Noir provided pairs well with the desserts in front of them, and politician Ooe is more than happy to take an indulgent sip. The man basks in the elegant atmosphere of the dining hall, smacking his lips to the rippling chords of the live piano in front of them. "Shido-san seems to be planning his campaign following your wishes?"

"Of course, my dear boy!" Politician Ooe laughs. "I won't brag, but I have his right ear, you know. Shido-san listens to my advice on everything."

A blatant lie, Akechi thinks behind his pleasant smile, politely topping off his glass. And they both know it.

"Then you must know what Shido-san is planning next," Akechi asks smoothly, taking off his mask and leaning forward in interest. There had been rumours that politician Ooe had an uncanny interest in beautiful boys and girls, and it shows when Ooe's eyes flick around his face before swallowing. "Won't you tell me, Ooe-san?" He asks, tone low, admiring. It's a disgusting glance he receives in return, but the memory of Hinata holding Shion keeps him in place. He adjusts his posture, slanting his smile into something more gentle and beautiful.

"Wha-what do you want to know, Akechi-kun?" Ooe asks, and Akechi's swallowing the triumph rising in his chest when a hand clamps on his shoulder.

"That's enough," the voice says, and Akechi tenses. "Thank you for your patience, Ooe-san, I need to borrow him for a few minutes."

"Two Akechi-kuns?" Ooe says with confusion, and Akechi is resigned when he looks over his shoulder.

His own face looks back, eyes blank and soulless, before the face cracks into a wide, mocking smile. It doesn't even take a moment for Akechi to glance down and see the shape of the gun that shot him dead through his uniform's coat.

His heart beats loud in his ears.

"Hello. It's nice to meet you at last… _Goro Akechi_. Frankly, I expected to see you far sooner. Let's take this elsewhere, shall we?"

  


* * *

  


"This shit's the best, man! Ramen is life!" Ryuji exclaims, loud over the sound of other patrons eating ramen with them. None of them really pay Ryuji any attention, though the chef in front of them raises an eyebrow at his regular. "Light soup like this really gets your body goin' again after a good run, y'know. We used to come all the way out here after practice and…" Ryuji pauses, and Akira glances next to him to see Ryuji sigh. "Uh, I guess that's all in the past…"

Having finished his own bowl of ramen around when Ryuji did, he watched his new friend as Ryuji struggled to find the words before giving up.

"By the way," Ryuji says instead. "I've seen Nakaoka around a few times, but for some reason it don't look like he's getting along with the others."

Akira continues listening as they delve straight back into the effect that Kamoshida had made over his friend's lives. Ann's struggles with Shiho and feeling strong, having had her confidence stomped on for a whole year under constant threats of sexual abuse. Now Ryuji, feeling guilty for defending himself.

It fuels the low-burning sense of suffocation he'd had when Akira realised there had been no-one willing to take his side during court, and he lets this frustration transform into satisfaction that at least for Ann and Ryuji, they had actually been able to do something about it this time. That they had seen he was merely a pathetic man, after all. Kamoshida's Shadow had grovelled on his knees in front of Ann, had apologised to Ryuji. Had promised to turn himself in for all the crimes he'd been dodging.

This couldn't be anything but justice.

"You're doing great though," Akira offers his fellow outcast at school, watching Ryuji brighten up with a small smile.

"For real though, it's been a shit ton of fun! Hanging out with you guys is so freakin' cool!" Ryuji says at the end, his bright earnestness taking Akira slightly aback. He wonders if it's a city thing, to be so straightforward about their feelings. Goro had been the first one, blinking inquisitively at him over his dinner table as he talked about Hegel, seeing in Akira something he'd never really felt.

Ryuji had a different type of sparkle and expectation. Goro was all calm smiles, introspective thoughts and prying inquiry. Ryuji was a blast of energy and earnestness, dragging him off to train, to the Metaverse, to enact revenge, to go on investigations.

His former classmates would laugh to hear anyone describe him as 'cool'.

The conversation peters out after agreeing to train with him again, and they step out of the small ramen shop to see the large, dark clouds in the sky. Ryuji squints up at the darkening bellies of the clouds, heavy with rain, and sniffs. "Whoa, it's kinda cloudy, huh," he says. "It kinda smells like it'll rain too. I'll dig out my umbrella, just in case."

It's a sound idea since Ogikubo station was a ten-minute walk from the ramen store, and Akira does the same. He has his blue umbrella in hand when Ryuji pulls out his black one with flourish.

"A-ha!" Ryuji exclaims triumphantly. "Found it!"

Then it promptly clatters onto the floor when Ryuji tries to zip up his bag, and Akira bends over to pick it up. Then he blinks.

There's a name written on the handle, in girly hand-writing. He's seen Ryuji's chicken-scratch, and it's definitely not thin and flowy, with love-hearts on either side.

_Goro Akechi._

He blinks, pointing at the name, and Ryuji laughs.

"Yeah, that's not my name cos the umbrella's a gift. There was a really nice guy that helped me out when it was absolutely pourin'. Made a shitty day better, but I haven't seen him since sooo…"

"Did he have brown hair?" Akira asks, and Ryuji frowns in thought.

"I… think so? He looked like he was older too, from one of those fancy private schools. His uniform was all neat lookin'."

Akira stays silent before he takes out his phone and types in a general search. The moment he types 'Goro Akechi', the whole search box is filled with article headlines and news, a few rare photographs of Akechi directly under the search bar and he shows it to Ryuji.

"Yeah, I remember now! He looked exactly the same as this guy!" Ryuji laughs before he looks again. "Wait a second, Goro Akechi? Isn't that your friend that Ann said was famous or something?"

Then the pieces obviously click in his mind as he looks from the umbrella still in Akira's hand, the photos on his phone, and his own memories and Ryuji takes a step back with a loud squawk.

"Whaaat?! I met a celebrity without knowing it?!"

Ryuji reaches forward and Akira lets him take his phone without resistance, watching Ryuji as he scrolls through the articles. "Hot damn, he's impressive. No wonder he could dig up that stuff with Kamoshida…" Ryuji looks up as he gives him his phone back, smiling. "Not only that, he's nice in real life too. He's one cool guy, huh?"

Akira nods, a small smile on his lips when he looks at Goro's photograph, a candid shot where he's talking seriously with another member of the police.

Handing back the umbrella after a second, Ryuji laughs. "Hey, if you're friends with him, why not invite him over one day?" Ryuji grins. "I can thank him, and with him around we'll have no problem chatting up some chicks!"

"…"

Akira turns away, and Ryuji slaps his back playfully.

"Juuust jokin'. Bye, bro, see ya later!"

  


* * *

  


Akechi follows his cognitive self down the bewildering maze of Shido's inner corridors and notices his school uniform is perfectly recreated in replica, his walking mannerisms, even his hairdo. He has never underestimated Shido's ability to observe, but there's a chill in his spine when he realises how closely Shido had observed him after all.

Other guests on his ship had varying versions of the same sort of dresses and suits. Minor imperfections for faces are only just enough to distinguish one generic face from another. Shido only cares so much, after all, for people with less influence and wealth, and repeating faces and clothing is only to be expected for minor members of Shido's conspiracy. A long as each cognitive body houses a different personality, it's enough for Shido himself.

In contrast, someone like politician Ooe had been recreated with detail. Immaculate suit a shade more elegant than the others, expensive wristwatch and other accessories all present to paint a slightly vain man, cocky, bloated with self-importance.

Akechi is modelled in the same level of detail, from the crest of his school that's emblazoned on his jacket, to the sweep of his hair to his preferred side. Shido's cognition has mastered even the slightly taunting smile he gives to his opponents when he's approaching a deal. The face is much colder than what he usually wears when his cognitive self glances back.

"We're nearly there," Shido's cognition says emotionlessly, steps silent on the thick carpet. His cognitive version leads him through the winding hallways of Shido's Palace, making their way past countless statues of Shido in various waiting rooms posed to look down at anyone who came through. Guests are rarer in the more residential parts of Shido's cruise, Shadows bowing them through when they see the pair. They proceed through the Palace in silence.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," the cognition says, eyes sliding towards him without a falter in his pace. "Expected this, hmm?"

"A man like Shido would never let someone with my powers loose without some sort of security," Akechi replies smoothly, nonchalantly sliding one of his hands over his heart. The gloves don't hinder the warmth he feels, and he meets this cognitive Goro's eyes with a gaze carefully shuttered. "I knew there would be some sort of measure in place if I ever entered his Palace to do as I wished. Should I be flattered that he thinks so highly of me that I am my own security?"

Goro chuckles and gives him his own smile, smoothly rounding a corner. "Haven't you guessed already, _Goro Akechi?_ I started off as more of a brainless fool, you know," the cognition says, taunting rasp licking every word. "Then I grew from a tool that was ready to sacrifice myself for the Captain's whims to who I am now. Even that Cleaner avoids me on the ship because of how _dangerous_ he sees you. How… uncontrollable. And how much more _appealing_ you are for it."

Cognitive Goro laughs, a cynical, gleeful sound, and the next corner he turns he nonchalantly places a hand on the wall. With a gentle squeeze the wall cracks, chunks breaking apart in his murderer's hands who has evidently become so much _more_. An opponent perhaps difficult even for himself, with both Robin and Morrigan as strong as they are. Akechi swallows and puts his hand down to adjust the white gloves on his hands. He doesn't reply.

"You've surpassed his expectations in every way," Goro says, eyes flat and disinterested again. "Aren't you excited about that? Shido thought you would, but you keep surprising him. Praise isn't your end goal… is it?"

This is Shido's Palace. Matters here can be subconsciously known by Shido himself. He keeps silent, but his cognitive self allows his eyes to roam, taking in something that makes the cognition smirk humourlessly.

"Thought so. And here you are. Shido's finally found a boundary that you care about so that you'll be less predictable, more controllable. Hinata Osumi and her son… reminds us of mother, doesn't it?"

Akechi clenches his hands. The fine fabric of his gloves prevent his nails from digging into his palms, and he keeps his expression placid.

"He thinks you hate him, you know," Goro says, voice dipping into some amusement. "That man has tried to shape his cognition of you into the perfect machine, but his subconscious denies the confidence he's trying to fake. So I hate him too, for some woman that I only feel disgust for that _you_ obviously love."

They turn another corner, pass another one of Shido's statues. It opens out into an indoor communal area, wide balconies looking over plush seating and tasteful décor, and something in Akechi's mind clicks. He looks up, eyes narrowed at the back in front of him.

"You aren't following his orders right now," Akechi states more than questions.

The Goro in front of him hums, mocking as he turns fully away from Akechi trailing behind. He adjusts his black gloves just like how Akechi did a few minutes prior, straightens his suit.

"I wonder," he says, tapping his chin in thought. "Can you truly trust the cognition of a liar like yourself, Goro Akechi?"

Akechi falls silent again when the cognition stops in front of a door in the VIP suite. There's anticipation in his eyes when he bows mockingly at him.

"Here's your ticket out, dear Detective Prince," the cognition's face twists into a smirk, a mad light tinting his previously passive eyes. Akechi doesn't flinch when his own voice, mock friendly, leans forward to whisper in his ear. "I'll be waiting at the entrance."

The cognition moves away with sleek grace, an assassin's pace in the way he disappears so quickly. He leaves Akechi alone in front of the VIP suite, no patrolling Shadow or guest in sight. There's laughter coming out of the door, some sort of party perhaps, and Akechi is prepared for anything when he opens the door.

There is a party of cognitions inside, just like he suspected, with a whole cohort of Shadows waiting on them.

"You're so cute, Ai-chan," one of the cognitions is laughing, an older man who has his back facing the door in the large lounge room that they were in. Another few businessmen sit alongside him, all having a girl of some sort on their laps, and they all fawn and flutter their lashes, coquettish as they play with the men they were with.

"Only for you, Segawa-san," the maid on his lap replies with a laugh and Akechi's eyes widen.

He recognises that voice.

The man shifts, and he sees Hinata Osumi.

This cognitive Hinata sees him the same time Akechi sees her, and she gasps like he's never seen Hinata do before, mouth wide and fake as she places a hand over her mouth. The insincerity grounds him immediately, and Akechi sorts his thoughts in order.

He can hardly expect a man like Shido to have any good cognition of the women he's been with, let alone a maid he used and thrown away. It's even obvious just by how Shido sees her. Her body seems improbably proportioned with her tone saccharine, a far cry from Hinata's true self. Akechi's about to close the door and leave it at that – the cognitive Goro was obviously tricking him – when Hinata's cognition points at him and giggles.

"Oh look, Segawa-san! It's the boy that I used to get two million out of Shido-san!"

Akechi's hand freezes on the door knob

"That stupid boy you were talking to me about?" Segawa replies, voice jovial as his hands stroked Hinata's waist, and she nods.

"Yes," Hinata says as she settles her head on Segawa's meaty shoulder, eyes never leaving Akechi's own, watching as he tried to swallow around the breath suddenly caught in his chest. "Shido-san heard that I probably reminded him a bit of his own sob story, so I'm selling him a little information on Akechi-kun to get more benefits, you know what I mean?"

"Haha, Ai-chan! You're so sly!"

"Thank you, Segawa-san," Hinata bats her eyelashes, and Akechi blinks because the world has gone somewhat wavery.

For some reason it's hard to breathe.

He stops closing the door and steps through, and no-one in the room stops him when he walks to this grossly inaccurate version of Hinata. Akechi knows this. Instead of a loving mother whose face lit up whenever she was in the vicinity of her child, instead of Hinata's slightly dry streak and tired eyes, this is merely a disgusting cognitive version of Hinata as a sexual plaything from Shido's mind, a man who places the women he's been with as less than dirt.

He can't stop himself from asking.

"What do you mean, Osumi-san?"

Hinata's replying smile is wide and scornful.

  


* * *

  


"What? There were repeated Meta-readings over at Shujin Academy while I was conked out sick?!" Futaba exclaims, and she dives for her computer immediately, fingers flashing over the keys until she's pulled up data records that she's been recording for the past few months they've been running. "But there haven't been any comatose incidents! Comas are usually immediate after GA or whoever goes into the Metaverse, right?"

Futaba squints at the readings, the spikes.

"Shut up for a sec, Baka-Kami. These readings are way bigger than they ever were. It's as if… more than one person was accessing the Metaverse at the same time."

Futaba is mostly silent as she listens to Narukami's response – half of it is useful, the other half is just some sort of drivel-wisdom that sounds like it came straight from a Meiji Temple charm, and Futaba rolls her eyes.

"Why would I want you to check it out for me? I know you live far away from Aoyama Itchome. Doesn't it take half an hour to get from Tokyo U to Shibuya? I live pretty close!"

Narukami's voice is uncommonly solemn when he replies.

"It could be dangerous," says the other. "Even if you're a fifty-foot tall yeti-goliath with rock-hard guns, we had already concluded that it was… odd that GA was the only new Persona user when a new Meta-normal incident rose. Now it seems like his teammates were just late."

"Don't underestimate my rock-hard guns," Futaba pouts, fingers pausing on the keyboard as she had already started hacking into the school's database.

"You've already read about Inaba. Anyone who touched a television during that year had the possibility of going into the Television World," Narukami says blandly. Background noise cuts off when Futaba hears the sound of a car door slam and Narukami asking a taxi driver to drive him to Todaimae Station. "I'm the only operative active in Tokyo right now, and I'm not going to send a kid over to investigate a possible opening to a new Metaverse that, in our most conservative estimates, has already housed a Persona user using it for evil for more than a year."

"Stop talking reasonable at me," Futaba says, shoulders drooping. "It's not my fault I don't have cool God calling powers. And don't call GA evil."

"I'll be in Aoyama Itchome in approximately forty minutes," Narukami replies, and Futaba could see his stupidly calm face already, all determined and kinda cool and about to be doing things that _she wasn't allowed to do_ and Futaba wants to punch a pillow.

"Call me when you're there!" Futaba says into the receiver before she cuts the call without saying goodbye, flinging the phone onto her bed and curling up.

It's so frustrating that she's always left out whenever something happened. She was the one who started all this in the first place, chasing the leads for her mom, for GA. All she wanted to do was find out the truth – and hoo boy, there was so much truth out there with the real explanation of what Apathy Syndrome was and the Inaba Murders – but it wasn't _her_ truth. Her mom was still sleeping, GA was still missing, her mom's cognitive research was still mysteriously disappeared.

Sure, she might have gotten a little obsessive… Futaba glances around her room and winces at all the papers she's stuck around her room, all cognitive pscience and trackers on the coma cases. Okay, she's gotten a lot obsessive, to the point that Sojiro was regretting caving in to her request for learning her first year of high-school online, but she's so sick of being left in the dark!

She's not going to give up though, Futaba thinks as her computer loads her directly into the school databases. There, she hooks herself straight up to the security cameras and their footage.

First though.

"Sojirooooo! When's dinner?" Futaba calls out her door when she hears Sojiro opening the front door, and he chuckles.

"Already so keen to eat yet another day of curry?"

"Of course!" Futaba calls back, crawling forward enough to peek her head around the staircase. Sojiro was still shucking off his shoes. "Curry is the best!"

"Give me an hour and we'll eat together, okay?"

"Okaaaay!"

  


* * *

  


"So?" His cognitive self asks when Akechi joins him, standing at the bow just as he had been before. Wind blew through their hair as they both look at the drowned city in front of them. "Wasn't that helpful?"

Akechi thinks to what Cognitive Hinata had revealed and translated it all.

"Shido had been preparing her as my proverbial leash ever since she became pregnant, hasn't he?" Akechi asks, tone carefully neutral, and this cognitive version of himself wears a sardonic smirk in his place.

"Yes," Goro shrugs, watching him. "Disgusting isn't it?"

"She accepted the deal for the money, a job and an apartment probably because she is being threatened with the same threat as I am," Akechi muses, staring up at clouds feeling strangely hollow. "The Hinata Osumi I know is fiercely independent and hates Shido nearly as much as I do. There," Akechi reaches for a reason, an _answer_ , "must be a reason why she did what she chose."

Perhaps it had even been the same photograph of Shion that Shido had shown him. Perhaps she just loved her son so much that she would sacrifice her friends for him.

"But you'll never know, will you?" Goro finishes for him.

Akechi resents that Shido's cognition of him is accurate enough to voice all his inner doubts. That this Goro knows the thoughts that are flashing through his mind right now.

Was this another of Shido's traps? Had he predicted his reaction all along?

"Who knows how strong Shido's hold on her is," Goro continues, voice even and measured. "Maybe she's willing, which makes going up to her and asking about this deal dangerous. And even if she wasn't, if Shido got her to accept once, what's stopping her from being coerced twice?"

Goro doesn't stop watching him, head tilted and calculative. Akechi himself doesn't look down from where his eyes have stopped, at the point where the sky meets the sea. The horizon is as ominous as ever, the harsh end of glimmering waves.

"Hey. How does it feel to be betrayed?" This cognitive Goro asks, tone curious. Akechi doesn't reply.

Hinata had agreed to feed information to Shido. She had been the one to tell Shido about Akechi's 'fondness' for her son, leading to this predicament in the first place. She had also agreed to other tasks at Shido's request, and the only outstanding one was Shido's request for her to download something into his phone if she ever got a hand on it.

Betrayal was hard when there is a dearth of trust, and trust wasn't something Akechi has ever handed out easily.

How did betrayal feel?

Like bitterness, if he truly had to give this feeling a name. A disbelieving, numb weight placed on every thought, every movement. 

This pervading, sickening clench in his lungs was what he'd given Akira.

 _How did you do it?_ Akechi wants to reach across the void and shake the Akira he knew, his Akira, the past Akira who he had lied to, shot, killed, and fought, and ask him _'How did you overcome this feeling? I wanted to kill you!'_ He wants to scream in his stupid, compassionate face, his offer to join the Thieves with just as much sincerity as ever after their fight, _'And all you did was give me another chance! How?!'_

How did one forgive?

His cognitive double finally looks away, dropping the previous topic when it becomes obvious Akechi wasn't going to answer.

"What are you going to do?"

"Check the facts," Akechi replies flatly, and without another word, he takes out the Metaverse Navigator. The whole scene warps in front of him, melting from sunset to a dark night. He leaves the other Goro behind standing at the bow of Shido's apocalyptic pleasure cruise, re-emerging in a nondescript corner in front of the Diet Building. The air is solemn and serious from the grandeur of the building behind him, filled with suits and importantly dressed men and women who walk silently, heads bowed. A guard nods at him when he walks past, and Akechi smiles back before turning from the iron bars of the gate.

He sends a text, and a few minutes later he gets an answer.

[Hatake Tobe: Osumi's account doesn't hold two million]

[Hatake Tobe: but she does have access to one of Shido's side accounts that holds a few million]

[Hatake Tobe: Is there a problem with her that we need to address?]

A small spark of hope in his chest flickers and dies.

[Akechi: No, I'm just verifying something. Have a lovely evening, Hatake-san.]

  


* * *

  


A highbrow event on Saturday has Akechi at the edges of the party once again. Shido has found use for him showing his face as another demonstration of power – both over the police and the entertainment circle – and he's rubbed shoulders with the SIU Director enough for the evening.

He spots Haru sitting next to her fiancé, sitting as prim and proper as she could when the man next to her gesticulated, often leaning into her space and hooking an arm around her shoulder, or pressing kisses into her hair in overt gestures of affection. Haru never protests, eyes kept down as she focuses on finishing her plate of salmon.

Akechi managed to catch her eye one moment during dinner, and Haru had sat up straight. There was something in her posture and a half-determined glint in her eye that spoke of Noir that made Akechi expect—

But no, Sugimura had took her chin and turned her so she faced him, muttering something that's obviously not as affectionate as it looks, by the way Haru clenched her fork. Akechi watches, but honestly. He has too much on his plate to try and contact her with the SIU Director, Okumura, Sugimura, and several other businessmen who lived in Shido's pocket all watching.

He leaves the premises early, and just as he expects, Hinata stands at the exit.

"Osumi-san, my apologies for calling you here and keeping you waiting," Akechi says, hurrying forward with a wave and a bright smile.

"Eh, it's fine, Akechi-kun," Hinata shrugs, giving him a tired smile. She's still in her uniform, a professional combo of a black skirt and white shirt, her name tag pinned to her front pocket. She's keeping herself well, hair tied back professionally into a bun, makeup tastefully done. "I was working late tonight anyway, so I hired a babysitter for Shion."

"So it wasn't too much of an inconvenience for you to come over? There was something I needed to give you, but I just didn't have time…"

He blinks, looking down at his hands in exasperation.

"Oh, my greatest apologies. I left Saito-san's gift in one of the fridges. Hinata-san, can you hold my bag while I sprint back to the venue and retrieve it?" When he hands over his bag, Hinata's arm dips underneath the weight and Akechi laughs. "Sorry, is it heavy? I have a few textbooks in there, which is why I don't want it weighing me down. I'll be back soon with Saito's hamper, Osumi-san."

Akechi gives her a light bow before jogging off. He lingers in the staff lounge, taking his time retrieving the basket of chilled food before jogging back. Hinata stays standing there underneath the streetlights, bag held by the straps in both her hands. They exchange bags, and Akechi accompanies Hinata as they walk to the station.

"How have you and Shion been?" Akechi asks with friendly concern. His face is set in one of his warmer smiles. Hinata smiles back at him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"We've finally stabilised our routine, Shion and I," Hinata says with cheer that had been long-lost these past few months. Ever since she lost her job at the café, actually. "You and Saito don't need to worry too much anymore. Shion's stopped crying in the middle of the night, and I've finally managed to persuade my manager to give me more day-shifts. How about you, Akechi-kun?"

"Well, school started again," Akechi says thoughtfully, hand on his chin.

"And has that been a problem, Mister Honour Student?" Hinata asks, and they continue into a pleasant conversation, catching up with one another.

"This newfound fame is actually making meetups with friends very hard," Akechi says as they wait on the station platform for their train. It's not the most popular station – it was hardly Shibuya – and they find an abandoned stretch on the platform. Akechi fiddles with his phone as he talks, tapping through a few apps. When he reads what it says his face breaks out into a sardonic smile.

"May I ask a question, Osumi-san?" Akechi asks, looking up. "Do you regret meeting me?"

Hinata tilts her head in confusion at the question. "No, never. Why do you ask?"

"Why are you betraying me to Shido?" He asks genially, smile warm.

Five more minutes until the next train. There's a brush of stale air already that's pushing out from the tunnel behind them, and Hinata stands frozen with her eyes wide. Her small, heart-shaped face has turned pale in an instant, and it takes her a few moments before she can reply.

"W-what do you mean, Akechi-kun?"

"The phone in my hand is one that I once dropped into water," Akechi replies, tone still deliberately mild. "It still works, though not as efficiently, so I bought a new phone while wiping this one, and there shouldn't be anything on this device of significance, nor any data usage or activity either. Imagine my surprise when I checked the logs just now and saw that someone downloaded some small, unnamed application from the internet just half an hour ago? An application that I must note is one I'm quite familiar with for being malicious spyware. And there's really only one person in my life that would wish to spy on me."

Akechi meets her eyes then. There's anxiety in them, that familiar nervousness he's gotten used to seeing. He cracks into a wider smile.

"I've heard rumours but I've tried my best to first verify the facts myself. To catch you red-handed is, needless to say, disappointing, Osumi-san."

"Akechi-kun, please listen to me," Hinata starts, and Akechi nods.

"I'm listening, Osumi-san."

"I—Shido was threatening Shion," Hinata explains, swallowing through a clogged throat. "He was saying that he'd pile me with abuse charges and take Shion away. And, and that's not all, Akechi-kun. He was also threatening you – he was saying that he'd threaten to ruin your life by saying you were with a sex worker like me, a-and," Hinata says desperately, in a tumble of words. "You saved me, Akechi-kun. You and Saito-san – the both of you are the only two people who reached out to me when I needed it most, but you did it first. Without you I'd still be in that pile of snow, wondering where I'd live—"

Akechi has closed his eyes.

"So. Are you saying you did it for me?"

"Y-yes! Or no, I'm not placing the blame on you, Akechi-kun…"

"Do you know why Shido is so fixated on me, Osumi-san?" Akechi says. "I have access to a set of skills that Shido desperately wants to use, but I have been resisting until now because their use brings great consequence. A few days ago Shido sent me a photograph of Shion being held in the hands of one of his agents. I felt… angry. I felt hopeless. I was going to use everything in my power to break you free of Shido, Hinata-san. Because that is Justice, to help you protect what's precious to you. Because that was the right thing to do."

Hinata opens her mouth a little, before it closes again, wordless. Her hands have closed over the straps of her bag, small hands clenched tight.

"I was going to listen to his demands and cause an accident that may lead to the deaths of hundreds of people because of you, Hinata-san," Akechi continues. "I was willing to sacrifice my values and morals because I am an orphan that came from a single-parent family and watching your love for Shion revived some more optimistic memories in my heart. But to know now that you fed information to Shido, be willing to plant spyware into my phone, and accept two million yen because of your son, and as you say, for me…"

One minute left. The station billows with a warm wind, and Akechi looks straight at Hinata. Tears are overflowing from her face as she looks at him, and Akechi gives her an insincere smile.

"Osumi-san, I am not a generous person, but I am trying to understand. So I am being honest. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I _couldn't_ ," Hinata replies immediately, reaching out a hand before quickly retracting it back to clutch her bag. "Please believe me, Akechi-kun, I've barely touched the two million yen but how could I approach you when I've already accepted it?"

It's not like he doesn't understand, intellectually. Shido took advantage of Hinata's ignorance of the sheer stakes involved and threatened the two things that she valued. One, her son. Two, her friendships. Then he tied her down with pride by making her accept two million yen, making it shameful, make her case unbelievable if mentioned to anyone else.

Akechi still can't get rid of the bitter feeling in his mouth.

"Osumi-san, Shido is using you to manipulate me. Without me in the picture, he will most probably leave you alone. I have a solution for all our current predicaments, but we will need to part ways here. It seems like that is the best option for our continued safety anyway. Will that be alright with you?"

Akechi doesn't truly wait for her reply, bowing to her formally when the train comes thundering into the station tunnel.

He's thought long and hard. Swallowed the bitterness that came with thoughts of Hinata feeding information to Shido, concocted his plan to test if Hinata would truly do everything that Shido told her to do.

Perhaps if he was a greater person – if he was Akira – he would be able to move on, easily forgive even attempted murder on his life. Maybe he would then continue his aborted plans to contact Kirijo again, reach out to Futaba, argue a deal with Fusatsune.

But Akechi has never been that person.

He steps onto the subway, and there's a part of him that wonders if Hinata will step on behind him. Would insist on explaining her point, her part of the story, in a way that even the small bitter stone that was his heart would be touched.

She never does.

The next day, there's a subway crash in the latest hours of the evening. The subway crashes in the middle of the night when the commuters were at their lowest, and accident records five injuries, the most a broken bone, and Akechi is promptly called to Shido's office.

**Tower Rank 6 – Hinata Osumi**

  


* * *

  


When he reaches Shido, the man isn't as angry as expected. In fact, there is hardly any anger at all. "Explain yourself, Akechi," Shido demands instead, demeanour and voice seemingly calm as he sits in his chair. A different office this time, one that was made to entertain guests. There's a partition that hides half of a cabinet filled with expensive wines, and behind him lies a small sitting table surrounded by chairs.

Akechi doesn't bother sitting.

"It's simple, Shido-san" Akechi shrugs. "I didn't listen to you."

"So you don't care about my terms?" Shido asks, voice interested as he folds his hands in front of his face. His tinted glasses do nothing to his genuine curiosity as he feels Shido's regard rake across Akechi's stone-wall of neutrality.

"I did care, until I realised Hinata Osumi betrayed me," Akechi replies, and Shido laughs.

"I'm impressed you caught it so quickly. I expected another few months at least. Being a detective suit you surprisingly well. What tipped you off?" Shido wonders. "The girl's abominable acting?"

"Perhaps. Or it may be the fact that you were too greedy. I caught her downloading spyware into my phone, Shido-san. There's only one person who would gain from that sort of act, and it's not Osumi-san."

Shido doesn't even seem ashamed that he got caught, smile widening on his face as he continues watching Akechi. The earliest hours of the morning force Shido to use warm-light lamps that do nothing to soften the hungry gaze that Shido has. His eyes are a dark glimmer, and Akechi remembers how he had appeared in Shido's own cognition. Remembers just how many of the guests had praised Shido's ability to 'root out any information'. Saw comas as a grand prize to be won from Shido's favour.

"The more I see you, Akechi," Shido says, "the more I realise that you were chosen by God… Chosen just like me."

Akechi cuts him off there. He feels like there was a choice that he can't turn back from if he allows Shido to continue, so he presses onwards instead.

"Shido-san, if there is one thing I realised through this whole negotiation, it's the fact that I highly dislike being manipulated. Since you have honoured all our deals so far, I will come forth with another."

Shido's entertained smirk never falters when Akechi exposes a little bit of his anger.

"Never threaten those near me again," Akechi says, smile just as sharp as Shido's own, "and I will do as many information requests as you wish, with no limit, until the end of your election campaign. Palaces and comas will remain the same."

There are no words to describe the utter _satisfaction_ that descends on Shido when he hears the words out of Akechi's mouth. They both know that Akechi is offering exactly what Shido wants, the reason why he dared to so overtly change the orders for the subway crash in the first place.

"Deal." Shido agrees, and he sticks out a hand to grasp.

"This includes Hinata Osumi and her child," Akechi adds as he shakes Shido's hand, just to make sure, and Shido's grip tightens for a fraction of a second as the man, _his father_ , calculated something behind his eyes, weighed him like a piece of meat and found that he was instead made of solid gold.

"One day I will make you willingly join my cause, Akechi," Shido says before he lets go of Akechi's hand.

"I truly doubt that will happen. Now, I need to prepare for school. I will take my leave, Shido-san."

And with a quick, insincere bow, Akechi leaves.

A few seconds later, another voice rings out in the room.

"Are you sure that was fine, Shido-san?" Fusa steps out from behind a partition, face unreadable. Shido's answering smirk doesn't fade. "I've never seen you forgive direct insubordination."

"His abilities are crucial, Fusa," Shido replies. "And besides, it's amusing to see someone like Goro Akechi trying to play as someone righteous."

"Play?" Fusa echoes and Shido turns his chair so that he faced the beautiful, dark vista of Tokyo, still in the stages of waking up for the new day.

"I predicted this, you know," Shido says into the air, more to himself than Fusa. "It wouldn't have mattered whether Akechi found out about that woman's betrayal. He could either continue to be tricked and listen to my orders. Or he could find out about the betrayal, and as per my predictions, twist himself into becoming someone bitter and angry. A person as paranoid and untrusting as him being stabbed in the back?" Shido laughs, deep barks harsh with derision. "That boy wouldn't be able trust any more. He'd close his heart to even the people he knows and turn to me instead, with our contracts and rules, our little game of give and take. Because, Fusa, our relationship is hardly one of _trust_. We speak a common language, he and I."

Shido looks down at the country of ants underneath him, the lone lights of an early car here and there, and he chuckles.

"It makes me nearly regretful that I didn't bring him in earlier," Shido murmurs, before shaking his head. "But enough with distractions. Continue your report, Fusa."

"Yes, Shido-san," Fusa replies with a polite bow, and continues to dictate his report.

**Devil Rank 5 – Masayoshi Shido**

  


* * *

  


Watching Kamoshida grovel on his knees in repentance, seeing Ann scream at him for wanting to commit suicide – Akira can't help but reply to Ryuji's doubts with a nod of affirmation.

What Kamoshida said, the apologies and acknowledgment that arose. To Ryuji, to Shiho. To Ann, crying because Shiho had woken up and she could tell Kamoshida was going to prison for what he did to her.

They couldn't be wrong.

"We'll celebrate on the 5th, on Children's Day." Ryuji says, looking around for objections.

"Alright then!" Ann says cheerfully. "We'll leave selling the medal to you, Akira!"

That night, he watches the news as the Transport Minister got grilled for his negligence as he chews through his plate of curry.

"Although there's evidence that your ministry received reports nearly seven months ago that these tracks had problems, it only took until now that a train crashed, with thankfully, only five injuries for you to take notice?" The interviewer asks, a little angry, and the Minister on the screen wipes some sweat off his forehead.

"This is, we are truly sorry for what has happened…"

It wasn't directly related to him, however, and Akira just tucks it as another part of 'daily news' and focuses on selling Kamoshida's medal to Iwai without looking too much like a dodgy teenager (he doesn't think he succeeds, with the man's raised eyebrow and dubious laughter. Akira bore that with as much stoic energy as he could channel). A few days later, he's staring down a whole plate of weird mush and beans, another plate of his own food as Ann and Ryuji bicker on either side of him. Morgana is secretly sneaking slices of fish from his plate even as Akira eats a little of everything – Ann wasn't kidding, the food really is amazingly good – and at the end, the four of them swear to each other with bright determination in their faces, high from their first success.

"Now then, this is the official formation of the Phantom Thieves organisation!" Morgana exclaims passionately, and Akira watches his cat try to look cool while still staying in his bag and can't help but pet his head.

"Oh no, our time for the buffet ran out!" is what Ann says immediately afterwards, ruining any grandeur that Morgana was going for. Akira stifles his laugh into a small smile when he notices Morgana's huff of disappointment.

"Let's talk more tomorrow then," Ryuji says, and they all agree as they waddle out of the buffet, shooting casual suggestions at each other as to who their next target would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys. derp, a lot of things happened that will set up for later things, and uh, there were several cut off points for all of this but guess what! Hahaha you got it all in one go so no cliffhangers for you!
> 
> Phantom thieves officially established. :3 Thanks for all your comments last week - I do save those sorta extras in my persona5 fic folder, so uh, maybe I'll squeeze that Minato extra somewhere, someday.
> 
> A dear reader requested last chapter for an Arcana list, so here you go!  
> Fortune 10 Wakaba  
> Justice 10 Atsuzawa  
> Universe 10 Minato  
> Tower 6 Hinata  
> Devil 5 Shido  
> Empress 3 Haru  
> Fool 3 Akira  
> Sun 3 Saito  
> Star 2 Hikaru  
> Hanged Man 2 Fusatsune  
> Hermit 1 Futaba  
> Moon 1 Sae  
>   
> Sorry for all my typos, i will edit throughout the week. Btw I totally don't mind constructive criticism, :). Thank you for your kudos and support guys. It makes me warm and fuzzy, even when I type chapters like these and wonder if all these transitions are alright heh. Please don't worry about me stressing :D writing this fic is kinda destressing for me, to be honest, as well as your kind reactions to a lot of it. I mean, this community is ridiculously nice, and this isn't a call for a flame or something now because I have a tofu soul, but thanks guys. I can only hope my future twists can come into fruition with a sense of satisfaction. Some of you are getting so close to Akira's past HAHAH but there's a crucial element missing and you guys will get it very soon.  
> This is generally my thoughts when writing Akechi and Akira together:  
> Akechi: *waxes poetic with great vocab when he sees Akira standing around lowkey spacing out  
> Akira: *wow he pretty


	27. Chapter 27

He once asked Akira this, on a rainy night in LeBlanc.

"Do you ever get angry?" He asked in half exasperation, and in the pause that Akira always has when he's asked a question that he needs to formulate words to answer, Akechi looks out the window. Thick silver strands of rain whipped the air outside into waving sheets, and the few people struggling to walk down the relatively covered alleyways of Yongen-Jaya looked miserable to have to do so, umbrellas threatening to flip with rain soaking up to their elbows from slanting wind.

The air was wet even when he breathed in, smelling of coffee grounds and petrichor, and Akira's movements had been methodical as he wiped down tables and put cutlery back into their cupboards.

"Depends on what it is," Akira had replied, sitting down across from him and re-joining their half-finished game of chess. It was an even match – Akechi had taken both of Akira's bishops, but Akira had a knight in his hand as well as several of his pawns. "I don't usually get angry though," he adds with a small smirk, all deceptive slouches and gentle head-tilts. As if he wasn't a person whose smirk grew wider when he shot down enemies, who prowled in the dark with precision and tore the masks off monsters commanding them to reveal their true form. No, Akira in real-life stayed quiet and observant, mouth tilted serious and eyes a shade distant.

"Forgive me, but may I mention I've looked into the matter of your friends?" Akechi says, and Akira's gaze immediately grows sharp, protective.

To have that gaze on him... Akechi's own smile hides a little satisfaction he'd caught Akira's full attention. Concerned about his less legal contacts, probably. He could name quite a few – the ex-yakuza at the Airsoft shop was already hounded constantly by police, the scamming fortune-teller at Shibuya, and his sex-worker of a teacher. All would be on tenterhooks with just a word from Akechi.

He smiles angelically instead.

"Don't worry, it's just cursory curiosity. When I looked into your circumstances I realised that the people around you always… they change, Akira." Akechi says as he leans forward, taking his queen delicately and shifting her two squares diagonal to take a pawn. "A few change of hearts, a few drastically improved circumstances. You're obviously the cause. What motivates you to help them if not some sort of… anger for their circumstances?"

Akira's expression changed then, to that insufferably soft look that was a shade away from pity.

And, movements smooth, like a cat stretching languidly before jumping into the night for a lucrative hunt, Akira moved a knight and removed another pawn.

"Guess," Akira said, and his smile was, now that Akechi thought back and understood, affectionate and kind, and Akechi still doesn't understand this memory.

Because Akira knew all along that he was going to be a traitor. Known from the beginning he was only hanging around until Sae's Palace because he needed to lay the perfect trap and Akira was still willing to sit down in front of him like this, still willing to go through the motions of being his friend. Invited him to go to Mementos, took his opinion into consideration.

Akechi has guessed half a million times on the memory of Akira's smile, and he still doesn't feel like he knows the answer hidden in the kindness of Akira's eyes that night.

  


* * *

  


"Look into it!" Shido snaps at his personal psychiatrist, who bows hurriedly and moves to another room to look through Wakaba's notes again. "Kamoshida's change is too sudden, it's only luck that he's too preoccupied with his own crimes and didn't mention the conspiracy," Shido says to the room at large in his office in the Diet Building, and the bunch of politicians in front of him nod seriously.

"Wakaba Ishikki's research did mention that desires can be manipulated in the Metaverse," one of the politicians muses seriously, "and this shift in Kamoshida may be a realignment of his desires."

"A desire to repent?" Another politician asks, and the first nods.

"Did you know anything about this?" Shido narrows his eyes at Akechi on the screen of his laptop, and Akechi shakes his head.

"No. If I had the ability to do this, I would've mentioned it sooner. Making a person vocally admit their own crimes seems much more expedient than merely incapacitating them and manipulating their trails from the shadows," Akechi replies, and Shido grunts in affirmation, finger tapping the table in front of him in annoyance.

It's new, to be included in a conversation like this, even if it wasn't in person. He can hear many of Shido's political cronies in Shido's office that he had never been given the privilege to meet before.

"What were you doing that day, Akechi?" He hears Fusa say on the other side of the screen, and Akechi smiles.

"I was in a Kichijoji café finishing some homework, as many eyewitnesses would attest," Akechi smoothly provides his alibi, and Shido gives another grunt of affirmation.

"Then as the person most affiliated with the Metaverse, I suggest that Akechi be part of the official investigation from the start," Fusa says formally to Shido. "He'll be our best chance at noticing anomalies on the ground. We can hardly trust normal policemen to do their job if the Metaverse is truly involved."

Shido raises an eyebrow at Akechi, who nods.

"I have the time," Akechi says. It's more than convenient for his plans to have a legitimate reason to be in and around Shujin, and Shido seems less irritated after he takes the job. As if he actually trusted Akechi to keep his word.

It's more than a little fascinating to watch.

"While you continue your debrief, may I share some of the information that may be relevant to Akechi?" Fusa asks Shido, and after the nod of confirmation Fusa tells him to wait at Police Headquarters for him to appear.

The Diet Building and Police Headquarters are both at Nagatacho, and it doesn't take Fusa even twenty minutes to arrive at his small cubicle in the corner of investigations team heading the coma incidents.

"Yo," Fusa says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as if he knew just how gossipy any office is, even filled with hardened police veterans with decades of experience. Even now there were a few curious peeks here and there at the foreign person who could just stroll into the heart of Headquarters like this without needing an ID, and Akechi nods. His bags already packed, he takes his leave and they exit the elegant foyer of Headquarters together.

When they're walking down the wide, open sidewalks of Nagatacho, Fusa breathes out.

"How you holding up?"

Akechi smiles, polite. "As well as ever, Fusa-san."

Fusa reacts with an unimpressed snort. "Yeah, not buying it. Here's what Shido's thinking about when he looks at Kamoshida's case, by the way," and Akechi accepts the pad of paper that Fusa gives him, "and I have something else to show you. Take this."

"Earbuds?" Akechi raises an eyebrow, not taking it, and Fusa rolls his eyes.

"No, I didn't insert a brainwashing track into it or anything. It's not going to explode in your ear either, stop being so paranoid and just take them."

The moment Akechi puts the buds in his ears, a conversation replays.

It's Shido, talking to Fusa. It's slightly crackly, but it's perfectly audible.

 _[A person as paranoid and untrusting as him being stabbed in the back?]_ It starts with, and Akechi listens until he hears his father's wistful tones at the end, saying the words that he killed hundreds of people to hear.

_[It makes me nearly regretful I didn't bring him in earlier]._

Walking down a concrete paved sidewalk on a mild spring day, the statement is utterly anticlimactic. There is no fanfare, no sudden shift of satisfaction. No blood or tears or even a mad wish to laugh in vindictive glee that he's finally succeeded in his quest for his father to _look_ at him.

There's not much at all, except a small cold unforgiving hardness where his heart is.

In retrospect, now that he has this in his hands having killed absolutely no-one, Akechi can't help but look down on his past self. He had truly been a fool.

"Why are you showing me this?" Akechi asks emotionlessly, and Fusa rolls his eyes.

"God, teenagers. I want you to know because I promised Zane I'd take care of you, we also have a bit of a deal going on, and do you hear what I hear? Well, I'm going to tell you because you're being an emotional doormat right now. I hear _blatant emotional manipulation of a minor_. Like, I've seen some shitty parents, but Shido is," and Fusa does the start of an action that he quickly aborts that Akechi thinks may have been extremely vulgar. "Anyway," Fusa continues as they walk down the near-empty streets, "I just wanted to tell you that. Because Zane said you're a smart kid if a little emotionally dumb, and if he can see that, Shido can see that too."

"Emotionally dumb?" Akechi says, actually a little offended. Did Atsuzawa actually say that?

Fusa bitter scowl becomes a tad less of a scowl when he sees that he got Akechi to respond.

"Hah! Not in so many words. I think Zane was like, 'he's still growing up' or something, but I can translate well enough."

"Your interpretation is nowhere near the original statement," Akechi retorts with a bit of his own snark.

"I'm always right, don't you know I've been translating Zane since we were like, five. Anyway, I showed you this because one, the more I read what you're doing the more I realise you're actually not that shifty after all, and two, fuck bad parents. Shido has briefings you know, with me and Danna, about how we can control you better. He sometimes sweats a little because he thinks you won't listen to him and you're a pawn that promoted himself into a queen."

Fusa looks nowhere like the polite Japanese businessman that he always is in front of Shido, in front of anybody really, as he rambles on, arms waving. There really is a little bit of Atsuzawa in his nose, and perhaps, the way he talked if Atsuzawa had 150% more energy.

"I'm fucking impressed sometimes, because you keep shoving into Shido's face that his party supports him because of _your_ skills, you're independent enough to know it, and Shido, well." Fusa's frown twists a little before he nods to himself. "He's the type of pitiful person who confuses respect with fear, who thinks power is control, and he thinks he can make you the same kind of person. So you know why I'm telling you all this?"

Fusa directs them down another wide, empty street, past large barred gates, and the words that he says are rough in tone – practically spat out – but Akechi's not actually emotionally dumb. He prides himself for reading between the lines. And, strangely enough, Fusa's words are almost… sympathetic.

"One, you're Zane's kid, and you're skeevy but I'm realising it's not in the way I hate. And two is that I want you to keep spiting Shido. He thinks you won't be able to trust others? He wants to make you all dependent on him?"

They stop at a particular section of the road, and by the sparse amount of cameras he sees in view, he thinks it's a complete blind spot. Fusa's gaze is direct, anger hot in his gaze as he raises a hand in offering.

"Then trust me right now. I, Fusatsune, will never betray you. Take my hand if you want to spit on Shido's words. If you want to prove him wrong, make him go mad about how nothing's going his way. If you still believe in Zane, take my hand right now."

Akechi stares at the offered hand, the earbuds still in his ears with Shido's voice saying _'he won't trust anymore, we speak the same language, he and I'_ and reaches out a hand, because trust might be tender and difficult to reach right now, might make him feel hollow and uncertain. But spite?

Spite is what he's lived on for years.

Fusa grips it hard and shakes it. There's a hint of approval in his face.

"And I promise I'll prove to you that I deserve that handshake," Fusa says, rock hard and steady, and he lets go and continues onwards. "Teammates are important in our lines of work, especially when your work is so important it risks betrayal. To find someone you can absolutely trust is the ultimate _privilege_ , and you're not going to let Shido take that away from you, are you?"

"…Fusa-san, your manipulative wordplay is not unnoticed," Akechi replies for the first time in minutes, and Fusa rolls his eyes.

"Doesn't mean anything I said was wrong. Now get going and find some friends or something. Remind yourself with pure statistics that all of us know more people who respect you, and that betrayers are, and always will be, the minority."

"I hate listening to orders," Akechi replies, lacing it with a little of his usual pleasantry, and Fusa splits into a grin for the first time he's seen him.

It's unsurprisingly horrifying. Where Atsuzawa smiled like a shark, Fusa just looked plain devious and evil.

"Good," Fusa says with relish. "Keep stuffing that energy in Shido's face. It's one of the only things that keep me going when I have to look at his face for too long."

"You need better sources of entertainment, Fusa-san," Akechi says with polite laughter, and Fusa goes straight back to scowling.

"You think I don't want to? I don't have time, you dimwit. I mean, just look at this," Fusa scowls as he pulls out his phone as they arrive in front of the train station. "I have so much stuff to do, fuck. And ugh, I have to meet with Danna soon and I feel like he's planning something against me," Fusa growls.

"Fusa-san, you do know I have ways to extract information?" Akechi says, and Fusa rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, but Danna is Shido's Cleaner, and he's erased his identity so deeply that even I don't know his true name. And that's what you need right, their names?"

"That's unfortunately the case. It doesn't invalidate that I can still be of help in some way if you know the names of his trusted subordinates," Akechi replies, and Fusa rolls his eyes.

"I'm not like another piece of trash we both know, willing to exploit a high-school kid to do barely legal things. Don't worry, I'm good at my job. Shoo, my time expensive and you just took up like, fifteen of my minutes. Go away."

With that Fusa strides away, frowning down at his phone leaving Akechi in front of Nagatacho station. Looking at his back for a moment longer, he heads down the steps feeling much calmer than before.

Indeed. He does have people who he believes in, full heartedly, now that he thinks of it. Their bonds thrum warm in his mind. Minato, Wakaba, Atsuzawa - all people he can't imagine would ever compromise Akechi for any offer. And most of all, he had someone who had irrevocably proven himself. Who would always believe in him, bafflingly, no matter what.

_"I promise."_

Akechi hums. Emotions aren't logical, and he'd long acknowledged Shido's adverse effect on his emotions and logic. But Fusa hadn't been wrong.

He has... friends, even if the majority of them are out of reach right now. He'll see Akira soon though, in his investigations. The realisation is not enough to make him smile but there's a peace in the thought, when he thinks of Akira's curious eyes. 

It's a startling thing, to realise his world is large enough now that one person proving false doesn't make his world crumble.

**Hanged Man Rank 3 – Fusatsune Tsuchihashi**

  


* * *

  


Akira blinks and wakes up to a different type of dingy than LeBlanc. The bed he's in doesn't have covers, and when he gets up the ground is cold and bare stone. Blue light shines through the bars of the door to his right, and three pairs of eyes stare straight at him when he lurches himself onto his feet towards them.

Igor chuckles, spindly fingers tapping in front of a wide smile.

"First off… I'd like to begin by congratulating you," Igor says, eyes never wavering from Akira's own, deep voice barely holding back the amused chuckle that always seemed to hide just behind his words, always ready to come out.

Justine widened her eyes in surprise. "To think our master would give words of praise…"

"You better treasure this moment, Inmate!" Caroline shouted, whacking her baton on the bars.

Igor ignored all that, however, as he continued. "You have encountered allies who share your ideals, and you have found your place in reality. The time has come… Your rehabilitation will soon begin."

That's the only thing the people in this room keep talking about. Rehabilitation this. Ruin that.

"What rehabilitation?" Akira finally asks, and Igor chuckles.

"I shall explain it to you now," Igor trails off. "You have a special potential. However, that must be refined into a useful power. It is weak now but refining it shall grant you the strength to stand against the coming ruin." He pauses. "That is the rehabilitation cast upon you."

"Coming ruin?"

"Ruin is closer than you think," Igor smiles wide, and the laugh this time is much more knowing. "There are various means by which you may gain the power to resist the ruin. Fighting Shadows and gaining experience is one way. The fusion process I taught you prior is another."

"This is all possible because of our master's guidance, Inmate!" Caroline shouts, and Justine nods calmly.

"Though it may be presumptuous of us, we have words of wisdom as well."

Akira listened, even though Igor had barely answered his questions. Apparently, the people who he had contracts with would be important to 'avoid ruin' as well. It comes as less of a surprise to Akira than it could have been. The people he's met that triggered that weird message had all been…

"Thanks to the contracts you've formed, your heart is steadily gaining the power of opposition. Be careful, however," Igor says, beady eyes gleaming. "It seems that although your rehabilitation is going well something has approached you, hiding its true colours. Examine the relationships you have carefully, or this may hinder your future rehabilitation… To help you overcome this, I shall gift you an ability befitting your newfound growth and help you overcome any difficulties. May the devotion to your rehabilitation grow even deeper. I have high hopes for you."

Akira widens his eyes as he feels something shift in his soul, and Justine smiles as her voice makes the Velvet Room fall into black.

"The time has come. Return to your brief moments of rest…"

  


* * *

  


"Hello, may I ask if you're one of the investigators on the case?"

Shujin Academy is built like any other normal, slightly old school, even if it is ranked relatively high as a preparatory school. Akechi was standing with another few officers he's vaguely familiar with, attaché case in hand as they delegated tasks when the voice sounds behind him. It's just after school, and students were still mainly within the school grounds, though some have started to trickle out the gates.

Akechi turns around to see the calm business-like smile of Makoto Niijima standing behind him, waiting patiently for his response. She stands as usual, self assured smile on her face, head tilted in slight deference as she hides any nervousness through professionalism. The other detectives and police officers seem more than happy to leave Makoto to him, and he takes an extra moment to confirm the task he's been given. It's just collecting the opinions of the general student cohort, and he excuses himself afterwards.

He turns and bows politely to Makoto. "Yes, I am assisting with the investigation into the truths behind Kamoshida's confession. I am Goro Akechi, detective intern. May I ask who you are?"

"I know who you are, my sister has mentioned you before," Makoto replies, smoothing some hair behind her ear, polite without any agenda or manipulation. "I am Makoto Niijima, the student council president for Shujin Academy."

"Niijima?" Akechi fakes surprise, before leading on into laughter. "Do you mean Sae Niijima, from the Public Prosecutor's Office? She is quite a formidable prosecutor, although our paths have only intersected a few times. You must be her younger sister?"

Makoto nods, efficient. "The principal has told me to assist with investigations in any way possible, so I came to ask if I could assist the official proceedings in any way."

Akechi glances backwards – the other detectives have already scattered. Contacting and interviewing the teachers and principal, no doubt, alongside the volleyball team. Some students were also pointing at him in excitement, a few hovering trying to overhear what they were speaking about, and Akechi grimaces.

"Perhaps you can be my first interviewee," Akechi says, smiling pleasantly as he starts walking towards the school. "Would you mind giving me a few minutes of your time, Niijima-san?"

"Of course not," Makoto replies. "I'll assist with getting you getting a visitor's ID as well if you're planning to enter the school. Please, follow me."

Akechi follows Makoto, signing in at the administrator's office and heading inside, where Makoto leads them to the student council office was on the third floor.

"This is a quiet place where we can talk," Makoto says, sitting in one of the chairs and inviting the other to sit opposite. Her posture immediately changes once she's in a familiar space, more poised as she readies herself for Akechi's questioning. Akechi files it with interest in the back of his mind. One would imagine Makoto Niijima to not feel like an outcast like all the other Thieves, being student council president, top of her class as well as being a highly respected member of the school. But it seems she had been discomfited in her own way. Pressure, perhaps? "Please ask away, Akechi-kun."

Akechi goes down the list of questions, and Makoto answers as clearly as she could. Makoto was a horrible liar, a person with too much integrity just like her sister. It was easy to discern that she truly had no idea that Kamoshida had been sexually abusing his students.

"Truly? In the preliminary reports we received before we came to Shujin Academy to investigate, some witnesses reported that there were rumours of extensive bruising from the volleyball team ever since Kamoshida was instated as the volleyball team's coach." Akechi asks, genuinely curious.

The Makoto Niijima he knew had been a pushover before she became Queen, but she had prided herself for being sharp, had taken her responsibilities as Student Council President seriously.

Months and months of abuse flying below her radar? Did she respect authority that much before Principal Kobayakawa?

"That's," Makoto starts, voice high and flustered, before stopping in distress. "Everyone knew the rumours and we saw the signs, but the whole team, as well as Mr Kamoshida himself, admitted it was because they were working hard. No parents came forward, and that's how we all accepted it."

Akechi notes that down and smiles up at Makoto. "Thank you very much for your input, Niijima-san. Your way of speaking truly does remind me of Sae-san."

"Thank you," Makoto replies, smoothing out her skirt. "Do you have any other requests I can help with?"

"Do you have any recommendations on who I should interview who aren't part of the volleyball team?" Akechi asks, knowing who she would immediately think of. What better way to officially meet Akira than an external referral? Sure enough, Makoto only takes a second before nodding.

"There were a few people who Mr Kamoshida was highly involved in before his public confession. Will you wait for a moment? I will ask around if anyone knows where they are." It only takes a moment before she comes back. "They are on the roof. Do you want to accompany me, or do you wish for me to bring them to you?"

"Oh, it's no issue for me to follow you, Niijima-san. Please lead the way."

They walk in silence as they go up the stairway, finally opening the door where they step onto the roof where the setting sun slants straight into his eyes. He squints against the rose-pink of it all even as Makoto strides forward confidently. It takes a few seconds for him to adjust and see an abandoned roof, obviously used half for storage, and half for some agricultural club's endeavours. Past the ventilators and the planters are a few scattered abandoned tables and chairs, and this is where he sees Makoto facing off against Akira, Ryuji and Ann. Akira's standing, face stoic as he looks back at Makoto, even as Ryuji lounges on a chair and Ann sits, legs crossed, on a table.

Ryuji is frowning up at Makoto. "Anyways," he was saying, "what's Miss Council President want with us?"

Makoto doesn't look affected by the open hostility that Ryuji displays, brushing her hair back from her face. "The troublemaker, the centre of gossip, and the infamous transfer student. What an interesting combination." Even as Ann huffs out a belligerent mutter of _'Great way to start a conversation…'_ Makoto ignores her and turns to him "Akechi-kun," she gestures. "These were the people I wished to introduce to you."

"Wait… Akechi-kun?" Ann echoes in surprise.

Akira had long been looking at him, and Akechi fully steps out in the open with a smile. He is determined to make a good first impression to the Phantom Thieves as a whole, this time.

"Hello. It's a pleasant surprise to see you, Akira-kun. I knew you came to Shujin, but I didn't think I would bump into you today."

Akira responds with a nod of his own, a smile playing on his lips. Ryuji straightens, eyebrows high in recognition even as Ann stands straight. Makoto herself turns to him in surprise.

"You mean… You know our transfer student?"

"Yes," Akechi nods. "He was a key witness in one of my previous cases, and we've maintained a friendship ever since."

Makoto looks wrong-footed, but she recovers quickly.

"W-well, that should make things easier then. A…kira, was it? He grew to know Mr Kamoshida really well. Many of the incidents that incited the Kamoshida situation started after he transferred here, so he may be a good person to start interviewing with," Makoto introduces, and Ryuji immediately frowns at Makoto.

"Y'know he's only been here a month or so," Ryuji points out, and Akira nods.

"Hm…" Makoto hums thoughtfully, turning towards the Thieves, not to be outdone. Trying to prove that her recommendations were worthy while disregarding the atmosphere and rising tension, Akechi thought. Makoto Niijima did have a large stubborn streak in regard to proving her worth. "I heard Mr Kamoshida used a volleyball team member to spread details of his past record. Wouldn't you hate him if he did that? Mr Kamoshida, I mean."

"What's all this about?" Ryuji leans forward fully combative, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. Already, Ryuji Sakamoto was becoming Akira's staunchest friend and defender, tilting his chin at Akira while his eyes held a warning glint. "My friend here's an upstanding guy."

Makoto seems geared to reply - and it doesn't seem like she was going to back down either, spine snapping straight at Ryuji's tone. It's... probably not the best idea to watch these early dynamics of the Phantom Thieves with the air of watching entertainment (no matter how fascinating that Akira's Troupe of Thieves hadn't been the perfect, loyal team from the get-go), so Akechi steps forward.

"It's alright, Niijima-san," Akechi laughs to defuse the tension, before turning to the Thieves himself. He bows politely. "Hello, I am Goro Akechi, detective intern. I arrived today to assist with the police in investigating the truths behind the Kamoshida incident. May I have a few minutes of your time for a short interview?"

"Sure," Akira says first, short and simple with barely a pause, and Ryuji glances uncertainly at Akira for all of a second before nodding himself.

"Uh, if it's okay with Akira, I don't mind either. It's just for a few minutes, right?"

"Then I'll do it too," Ann jumps in. Makoto looks genuinely surprised for a moment that the tension in the air had dissipated so quickly before she lets out a short breath.

"You can leave the rest to me, Niijima-san, if you have other duties," Akechi offers in politeness.

"Thank goodness," Makoto breathes out. Her shoulders slump in genuine relief. "I don't have to deal with this horseplay anymore."

Ah, that brand of Niijima tact.

"Horseplay?!" Ann retorts, genuinely offended, but Makoto was already moving back to the doorway.

"Akechi-kun, please come by the student council room when you're finished. I'll help you log yourself out and return your visitor's pass," she says politely. "Also, the roof is usually off-limits," she flickers her eyes towards the other three, "and as a note, will be for the continuing future. Please excuse me."

When the door clicks shut, Ryuji huffs, leaning back on his chair.

"Man, she really pisses me off," he growls at the sky, but Ann had already overcome it, smiling face turned to Akechi in expectation.

"Goro Akechi, right? I'm Ann Takamaki, nice to meet you! Akira has said some great stuff about you already," She says happily. Her voice is as cheerful as ever, practically unchanged since the last time he bumped into her a month into his time travel. Her voice doesn't send him spiralling into a burgeoning panic attack at least, and Akechi smiles.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Takamaki-san. Any friend of Akira-kun's is a friend of mine."

How surreal, Akechi thinks as he stands in front of the three, Morgana leaping down from the roof with his blue eyes narrowed. To see the original quartet like this, smiling at him and eager to talk. Akira's leaning against the wall already with his gaze, dare he say it, _fond_ , while Ryuji's leaning forward.

"Hey, you helped me up and gave me the umbrella, right? I wanted to thank you after, but I didn't get a chance to!"

"What questions, Akechi?" Akira asks around the same time.

"You've met him before, Ryuji?" Ann whirls on the boy in question with surprise, even as Morgana raises his voice.

"Remember he's here representing the police, guys! Be careful when you answer his questions! That student council girl was already onto us!"

"It was the right thing to do, Ryuji-kun, please don't think more of it," Akechi says before he turns to Akira. "Just a few simple questions and I'll be out of your hair, I promise."

  


* * *

  


"What do you want?" Sojiro asks at his new customer. A college kid, by the looks of it, grey hair cut in a bowl cut, tall and well-built. He was wearing the kind of trendy that didn't usually step into more vintage places like his, but well, a paying customer was a paying customer.

"A cup of your house blend," Narukami replies, walking all the way down the store and sitting in the seat that faced the coffee machine. Sojiro's about the start the damn thing when the kid looks up at him. "You're Sojiro Sakura-san?"

"Yeah?" Sojiro replies. "What about it?"

"Nothing, I just heard your name around the neighbourhood," Narukami says, "about how you have great coffee and that you took in someone recently. Akira Kurusu?"

Sojiro sighs and places down the cup he's holding.

"Look, if you have business with the kid, he's not here. He's still at school, like what a schoolkid is supposed to do, and I gave him the keys to the store so I don't know when he's going to come back. If you got issues with him, take it with him, not me."

Narukami shrugs.

"Not an issue. I'd still like that coffee though."

Sojiro swears he just turned around for a second, before the weird college kid was standing, blank-faced, right in front of the television.

Touching it.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Sojiro shouts, and Narukami puts down his hand without a flicker in his expression.

"I saw an insect on the screen and had to compulsively kill it, Sakura-san. My deepest apologies," the boy replied, and Sojiro couldn't make the cup of coffee quick enough. When it was done, piping hot in a cardboard cup, Narukami paid the fee and stepped out to the background of a large sigh from Sojiro.

He sipped it. As good as promised.

However.

"Coffee-dad wasn't as friendly as advertised," he frankly informs his phone without turning it on, and sure enough, the screen flickers to life on its own.

"Duh! He's not _your_ coffee-dad, he's mine. Dads don't need to be as nice to people who aren't their kids!" The deep manly voice replies, and Narukami shrugs.

"Oh well. Are the police still investigating Shujin? I'm trying to lie low as a Shadow Operative. It'll be bad for Mitsuru-san if I get recognised there."

"They'll be there for the next week," Alibaba informs him, and Narukami looks up at the darkening sky.

"I have exams starting Monday, I can't stay for that long."

"Kurusu can't be GA anyway," Alibaba says, the sound of keys clacking in the background. "He was at school all the way in Nishi-Hachioji when GA was visiting Minato's grave. Thoough, the coincidence of having GA name himself as _Akira Sakura,_ and then having a boy named _Akira_ moved into Sojiro's place, then immediately having more Metaverse activity is… quite suspicious!"

"If I sneak in and hide in his room, do you think he won't be scared," Narukami asks, fully sincere.

"Gosh, that's so creepy!" Alibaba immediately yells. "No! What if you scare him away, huh?"

"As a boy, I know maids have universal appeal. All I have to do is dress as a maid and sneak into his room, and then I won't scare him off," Narukami continues, and Alibaba does a sound like a dying whale. As it wasn't a dying cat, Narukami wasn't half as concerned.

"There. Will. Be. No. Sneaking. Into. Rooms. Baka-kami!" Alibaba yells the last word, and Narukami sighs.

"Then there is only one option. I must crouch here at the side of the doorway like a hobo, waiting for Akira Kurusu to return home. Ah," he laments, "how the great have fallen… Ooh." There's an orange cat on the wall, looking down at him. Narukami reaches into his pocket for his ready supply of cat treats. "Please come down, I love you already," he informs the cat as he holds out the cat treats.

"Your love is so cheap…" He hears Alibaba murmur through his phone, but that is an untrue notion.

For there are a few steps of logic that are unassailable truths.

Nanako is cute.

Nanako is justice.

Cats are also cute.

Cats must also therefore be justice.

Narukami, as a law-abiding citizen, of course respects justice with all the depths of his heart. There is no harm in following a cat's whims by this very logic.

"Whatever. I'll notify you if Kurusu come back and you're too distracted!"

  


* * *

  


Akechi tries his best to keep a straight face as he sits through Ann's horrible lying, Akira's one-word responses and Ryuji's loud sweating as he goes through his questions. By the end Morgana doesn't even try to disguise his face-palm as a lick and just gives tiny yowls of despair, hiding his face in his paws.

"We're done for," Morgana whines, even as Akechi laughs and packs up his notebook.

"Thank you very much for your responses, this will be enough. Though as a tip, please relax next time someone is interviewing you," Akechi jokes, giving them a way out. "I promise we police aren't as scary as you think we are."

"Oh thank god," is Morgana's answer as he flops onto the table. "He thinks you three were just nervous."

"O-oh, yeah!" Ann immediately jumps on it. "Sorry if our responses sucked, Akechi-kun."

"Don't worry about it," Akechi denies, standing up. "I'll supplement your answers with a few more interviews from the student body. It was," he says now with his shiniest Detective Prince smile in force, "lovely to meet you all. I'm glad to see you're settling in nicely, Akira-kun. You've made some great friends," he continues, laying it on thick. It's not as if the people in front of him minded a lack of subtlety. Akira shifts from where he'd been leaning on the wall, looking at Akechi directly. As intense as always, and Akechi finds himself paying more attention to his next words.

"My curfew has lifted," Akira says, steady. Unassuming, as he lifted a hand to play with a curl of hair. "We can go for dinner now if you want."

Akechi blinks before a genuine huff of laughter comes out.

"Alright, I'll take you to Kichijoji soon," he promises, before he bows as a goodbye and leaves.

When he closes the door, he can still hear Ryuji Sakamoto because his voice is extremely loud.

"Man, he's nice but he talks so stiff and polite! Who does that, nowadays?"

"Ryuji, that's called being educated," Ann retorts. "He was such a gentleman, just like how I imagined he'd be!"

"But him appearing here was at the recommendation of that student council president," Morgana says, a lone voice of reason. "She's onto us. Also, I know he's your friend Joker, but he's here as part of the police. We have to be careful when we speak around him, alright?"

"He's so friendly though," Ann says happily. "Can't we just get Akira to sweet-talk him if he does find out we're the Thieves? It's not as if we did anything bad."

Akechi steps away from the door then, satisfied with the result. This first encounter with Akira's closest friends went well, and there's no belligerence or distrust from either Ryuji or Ann. It's a great start for his future plans of integrating himself honestly into the Thieves, later on.

After a few more interviews in the hallway, he walks with Makoto back down to the administrator's office, and he smiles as he thanks her.

"Thank you very much for your assistance today," Akechi smiles pleasantly, tilting his head. A few girls behind Makoto giggle when he does so, and he ignores them in favour of Makoto's sigh.

"Well, I hope everything passes soon," she replies. "You'll be coming over often until the investigation's over, right? If you need help, I'll be here."

"Thank you for your offer, Niijima-san," Akechi replies.

They leave each other then, Akechi rejoining a detective he sees at the entrance while Makoto heads back into the depths of the school.

  


* * *

  


Yusuke is walking out of Shibuya Station when he is struck. Struck to his bones, even, by the vision of what his next piece can be like. Yes, he wanted to capture a pure beauty, a clean artisanal piece inspired by Europe, and here was a model that was basically a living rendition of that image in his head!

Yes, that blonde hair, those blue eyes! Skin too, white-toned unlike the normal tones of a Japanese person!

He can't help but be disappointed when the lines and colours of her clothing disrupt his train of thought of how to capture her beauty on the canvas. If only she was nude, so that the lines of her curvature are clearly visible, so that he could capture the true beauty of the human form!

Ah, he must approach her immediately to ask if she could become his muse for his next piece. Yusuke chuckles deeply, standing still in the middle of the walkway. Yes, he can see it now, paint blooming across the canvas, the start of a piece that depicts pure, angelic grace!

Little did he know Ann had just finished talking with the others.

"Man, Mementos has me pooped," Ann yawns. "Little boys, weird red subways, people think weird things, huh. Welp, see you guys later!"

"Bye," Ryuji waves, and they split, Morgana jumping into Akira's bag and chattering away at the things he sees around him.

By the time Yusuke looks up from his reverie, the four of them are gone.

A deep, piercing pain strikes his chest, and Yusuke falls to his knees in despair.

How… How will he finish his next piece now?

A police officer, having watched all of this happen by the side, approaches Yusuke.

"…Are you okay, son?"

"No!" Yusuke responds with a cry full of pain. "My muse… she's gone!"

"Uh, alright. Do you have the contact number of your Guardian?"

"Sensei is out, busy dealing with the exhibition," Yusuke collects himself, brushing off his palms and standing up straight. His eyes are filled with hollow strength, a strength that can only come from overcoming deep, emotional pain. "Thank you for your concern, officer, but I can get back to my home by myself. I'll take my leave."

The officer watches Yusuke stagger off towards Shibuya crossing like a half-dead man with deep concern.

Well, if the boy says so…

  


* * *

  


"Hello," says a grey-haired man who was staring at him in the middle of the alleyway, blocking his way back into LeBlanc. Morgana pops his head over his shoulder to see what's holding him, and the other man immediately stares. "Your cat is beautiful, by the way."

"Not a cat," Morgana mutters.

"I wished to ask you whether you knew a guy called GA?"

Akira slowly shakes his head in negative, and the guy isn't deterred, face placid as he doesn't take the hint and keeps standing in the doorway.

"Then, do you know anything about Shadows?"

Akira pauses, before shaking his head in negative. Morgana has already tensed up, asking 'who is this guy?!' And the other boy – well, nothing drastically changes in his expression, but Akira feels that perhaps his gaze is a little sharper than before.

"Hmm. Also, have you touched a television recently?"

"No. Can I enter now?" Akira asks, breaking his silence, and the man in front of him nods.

"Sorry. Thanks for your time."

And simply, just like that, the man strides off towards Yongen-Jaya station, and Morgana jumps out of Akira's bag.

"I'm going to follow him for a bit, Akira. Don't mind me and go to sleep, okay? You have exams soon, you have to prepare!"

And with that, Morgana didn't come back for the next three days.

  


* * *

  


Although he's free for the next few days, Akira understandably cites that he has exams to prepare for, so Akechi doesn't push for any meetings. He sends some encouragement and some of his past study notes to help with some of the accelerated material Akira had to catch up with since Shujin was a bit ahead of his past school. They exchanged casual words instead, avoiding issues like Kamoshida. Somehow their chat evolves into Akechi sharing his interest in cycling through interesting areas of Tokyo, which then naturally turns into an exploration of what spots, exactly, Akechi finds interesting.

_[Akira: Let's go to the aquarium one day then]_

_[Akechi: We're creating quite a list of places we're agreeing to meet up on, Akira-kun.]_

_[Akira: Not a bad thing]_

It's also around this time, right after exam period, that Shido sends him his May Palace request.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that the MetaNav was an interdimensional key that lets users traverse into a parallel universe defined by someone's unique perception of the world. It can become mundane when it's scheduled like any other activity – Mementos every Sunday, mapping out a Palace every few weeks.

But sometimes it cannot be denied by just how grandiose some Palaces are.

May's Palace is a gleaming spire on a rocky outcrop, a whiplash from a mild spring day to raging violence. Tokyo is a grey silhouette beyond a lashing grey storm that thunders in Akechi's ears the moment he materialises into the Metaverse. Pounding, hard lashes of rain crash in a slant right into his face as the wind howls wild and whistles around the glowing beacon of a lighthouse in front of him. It's a tall and thin tower, it's light flashing weakly against the dark storm that drips ice cold through the holes of Morrigan's mask.

Thunder rattles through his bones, and multi-arced lightning traces the whole sky white before falling back to darkness.

The lighthouse is a dying flame against the dark, and when Akechi kicks open the door the tower shakes, stones weak, before managing to keep standing.

This Palace is a new one – the distortions were great enough to create a Palace, but not enough to truly build infrastructure based on their place of residence. There are only four levels to the Palace separated only by a narrow winding stone staircase with narrow gaps in the walls that allowed the storm to wet the steps. There were guards on each floor that are surprisingly fierce, bellowing their loyalty to 'Our Master!' and 'You will not defile our Master's works, black mask!'.

Each guard is more difficult than the last, angelic beings and demons alike throwing judgments and sword slashes at him that he sometimes only dodged by a hair's breadth before he'd call a Megidolaon to obliterate their health by rapid chunks.

The lighthouse's story is a typical one, dictated by mad whispers whenever he defeated a boss. Picked up as a scholarship student by Madarame when he was in middle school after he won an art contest, Osamu Endo spent years living under his tutelage until Madarame started presenting his works as his own and driving him out to the streets.

Each floor housed one such stolen painting.

Endo favoured large canvasses that depicted fantastical art inspired by Japanese fairy tales, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling in bright curlicues of paint and drastic shadow. Princess Kaguya and the moon, each and every silken ribbon on her dress painted with care. Momotaro smiling up at his parents after vanquishing the oni, colours washed with nostalgia. Urashima Taro's beautiful pearl box as he lived in luxury under the sea with the beautiful Ocean Princess.

The last and final floor was festooned with long tapestries of ink-wash and rice paper, many depicting a lone man walking across solitary landscapes, lost and alone. Half the ink wash paintings were already ruined from the leaky roof, the other half barely surviving because of the flickering flame in the middle of the room. Each and every one these works were famous enough for Akechi to know just by a glance as Madarame's most famous features, housed carefully in museums across the world.

"So you've finally come, black mask." Endo's Shadow steps out of a shadowy corner, looking resigned. He was a plain man wearing an old haori with smeared glasses perched on his nose, holding one last painting in his hands. The figures on the painting glimmer in the dim light- of a goldfish transforming into a ferocious dragon. "It seems… I'm too late. Hah, years of obsession ending just like this."

Endo closes his eyes in pain, and Akechi steps forward. There is never much he can say to those he faces, although rumour seems to be spreading of his existence between Palace rulers. Of a monstrously strong black masked figure who disappeared and appeared like the shadows he hunted and extorted from.

"I apologise," Akechi says, voice made flat and emotionless, and Endo shakes his head.

"If you're apologising," Endo says, Shadow eyes blazing as he snaps his gaze up, "then don't do this. Let me get my revenge. Let me destroy him for stealing my future. For stealing my youth. For making my brush so painful I can't even hold it without shaking in anxiety."

Endo is a request from Shido's treasured ex-noble contact to protect his investment in Madarame. It's an impossible request this time, and Akechi is silent when he levels his lightsabre at the Shadow's face.

"Fine, you leave me no choice. I cannot be stopped here! I am so close!"

Endo's Shadow roars as he transforms, the ink paintings around the room flying to wrap around him in hundreds of layers, the goldfish jumping out of the painting in his hands to become a roaring dragon that screams into the air before launching itself in a pre-emptive attack that Akechi barely has time to cast a _Tetrakarn_ for. The roof collapses altogether, the last ember of the lighthouse flame playing shadows on their faces.

"I will prevail!" Endo's Shadow shouts, and Akechi holds his sabre in a ready stance. When one of the scrolls starts lighting up, he leaps backwards to land in a skid on wet tile, the drop only centimetres behind him that lead straight to a dark ocean.

Akechi burns an ofuda in his hand and feels strength flooding him on the inside, dodging an electrical attack that crawls all along the wet floors with a well-timed jump.

" _God's Hand!"_

A large spectre of a hand bursts out behind Endo, crashing straight down on his head, and five scrolls immediately flicker and die while Endo remains standing, and he immediately raises both arms up to the howling storm. In the time that Akechi burns another ofuda, Endo slashes one of his hands down and the swirling wind threatens to blow him off their small landing, while another called down lightning that sparked life back into two of the drawings that Akechi had dimmed.

Akechi narrows his eyes. So that's how it is.

 _"Debilitate!"_ Akechi shouts, before leaping forward and throwing Wakaba's strongest freezing agent on the closest mass of scrolls, and watches in satisfaction when they immediately lose light. A _Deathbound_ has the frozen masses shatter, and Endo howls in rage when he sees his work destroyed.

After that it's a game of attrition and careful positioning, as skirting too close lead to the risk of electrical shocks while being too far could lead to him being blown off the stage altogether. Endo's weakness is ice but he only has so many of Wakaba's freeze bombs at hand, and the latter half of the fight nearly has him exhausted when he finally stands a few paces away from Endo who is on one knee, his last two scrolls floating around him like two ink halos.

"Yield," he demands, and Endo stares up at him, defiant.

"If I do, I die," Endo says grimly, before one arm begins to rise to call lightning.

Akechi stares back and sees someone else's burning desire to _never_ give up, cling to one hope of revenge for the memories of only fleeting glances of happiness already blurred by time and nostalgia, and feels a little fed up that world seems to keep reminding him that there were so many who struggled against the world like he did. That rage is only ubiquitous when the world doesn't treat you with fairness. It's discomfiting, the rising understanding he feels when he sees others like this, when he looks past attitudes and behaviours and sees that humans... They were all not so special, after all. For all that he looked down at people who threw pity-parties for themselves, his anger had just been another type of more grandiose self-pity. 

Empathy was truly such an annoying feeling.

Akechi places a hand on his mask and takes it off without yelling a command to his Personas. He lets himself be bare-faced at the Endo's Shadow and tells him. 

"I promise I'll bring you to justice," Akechi says through the rain, and Endo's yellow eyes widen when he sees him.

"The Detective Prince…? Does the corruption spread even to the police?" Endo says with an edge of despair, and the hand that's rising falls to the ground.

"Aren't you curious why people have only been falling into comas instead of dying?" Akechi says, walking closer now that Endo wasn't hostile. "You're a Palace Ruler, a Shadow yourself. You know that if I kill you, the you in the real world will also die."

Endo's eyes widen when he sees the syringe in Akechi's hand, and he searches Akechi's stoic face for a clue.

"I have a way to wake the comatose patients as well," Akechi says, and Endo bows his head.

"How can I trust you?" Is his next question, and Akechi now stands over him, looking down at his defeated figure.

"You can't. However, I can assure you that Madarame is hardly the most important part of the conspiracy that you've accidentally stuck your head into. You've been gathering evidence, correct? Give it all to me, and I promise..." Akechi sighs into the air, wondering when he had become such a busy-body. "I promise Madarame will be in jail by the time you wake up."

"We are just buzzing flies to that man," Endo laughs hollowly, but the storm around them lessens into a drizzle. "But I respect that you are giving a chance even to a defeated foe, Detective Prince. I accept your deal. Go to my government sharehouse in the outskirts of Ikebukuro. There's a loose tile in the alleyway behind it right next to a defunct bathhouse. There's a USB drive there in a water-tight box."

"Understood," Akechi replies and kneels down on one knee. Endo finally meets his eyes then, and Akechi doesn't know what he reads there for the man to suddenly smile.

"You really will, won't you…?"

Akechi slides the syringe into his neck just as Endo's smile transforms the slight drizzle into patchy clouds, and Endo's world freezes in the moments before the sun can breach the clouds with one last murmur.

"Thank you…"

It leaves a bad taste in his mouth when he leaves the Palace, arriving back in Ikebukuro where he'd entered the Palace in the first place.

The loose tile is easy to knock away as he's pretending to take a break, and he quickly slides the small box up his sleeve when he puts it back into place.

In the depths of Mementos on Wakaba's computer, he sees a whole compendium of lists and dates of Madarame's works, his apprentices, Madarame's public gatherings and world tours, artistic reviews and analysis of his works, and how utterly impossible it would be for Madarame to paint the works he has on display with the time he had even if he was one of the most 'prolific artists to have ever lived'.

It's highly likely he dealt with Endo in his past life before he ever successfully manifested a Palace of his own and never happened upon this information. It's also understandable that he's never heard of this evidence ever existing even if it did reach the police.

Although these data points and correlations would be sufficient as supplementary evidence, as the primary evidence to build a case on it would be too weak. Endo convinced none of his fellow apprentices to step up and give an interview, and any who did were already crossed out as already discredited.

But it's a good start, especially since Madarame was the next Palace that the Phantom Thieves will target. He doesn't particularly need to do anything for Madarame's descent into jail but...

Perhaps he can insert himself as a concerned party with this data as the building point of interest?

  


* * *

  


The next morning, he sees his phone filled with texts.

[Hikaru: I'm playing live tonight at the jazz bar! Wanna come see?]

[Saito: Akechi-kun, I need a little bit of help at my house. Sorry for disturbing you.]

[Hatake Tobe: You better reply kiddo, it's important.]

[Akira: It's too early for exams, help.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, this is a relaxing chapter after all the angst I threw you. A bit of rehashing, a bit of humour. I wished to add more, but... well, it didn't fit well in the timeline. Narukami and Futaba are suspicious, but there's literally no evidence right now so they won't act. Akechi is being Pleasant Boi. Yaldy is changing script little bits at a time. Next chapter we'll dive into Maruki and Yusuke, and one very big reveal I was planning on putting in this chapter as a cliffhanger but then I was matching it to Akira's dates and... wow? So many things happened on May the 7th? Pacing is suddenly so hard now ahahah
> 
> Thanks for your support and comments last chapter too. We've reached 2000 kudos! Wowie. I really didn't expect that, cos I've always thought that this fic isn't traditionally what you wanna read as a fic, but thank you guys very much! :D As a gift, I added the second part of the series as you can see down there. It's just the Wakaba and Minato's extras, with a new one hehe. Because people said it was a shame I deleted it. I hope this small gift shows my appreciation for all of you guys. Thank you so much. You guys inspire me, no joke. I would never be able to write this quickly without you guys, ahahaha  
> (sorry for all the horrible typos i know exist, i'll edit it throughout the week. feel free to critique if you see glaring errors. see you next week! ^^)


	28. Chapter 28

Akira blinks, and he's in a dark bar. There's distant music playing in the background, something classical with a mournful cello solo that absorbs into the velvet seats that he's sitting on. It sets a solemn tinge to the scene, alongside the line of empty glasses in front of him and his companion.

When his body looks up, he's surprised to see the unpleasant student council president that had confronted them on the roof, though there's hardly any annoyance or barbed suspicion under her words now. Instead, she's laying her head in the crook of her elbow, cheeks flushed and guard down as she flicked a finger gently against a shot glass, the beading condensation rolling down to pool onto the table.

"It's so frustrating," Makoto Niijima is saying, the alcohol having barely dulled her tongue or the frown on her face. "I finally understand how sis felt, all those years ago when she was still a Public Prosecutor. I have the same abilities and skills, I have better marks, I work five times as hard and the professor still chose Naoki over me for recommendation and I can't say anything against it!"

She abruptly grips the shot and sits up, pouring it down her throat, and Akira wordlessly tops it up when she slams it back onto the table, mixing grape soju with beer. The colourful bottles seem out of place in such serious décor, but the waiter who passes them just wordlessly collects their bottles and cocks an eyebrow at the two. A few minutes later there's another bottle of soju on the table, and Makoto's twisting it open herself with a determined huff.

This has been unfortunately common sort of meeting for Makoto and Akira.

Makoto was both smart and hard-working, easily one of the top candidates to top her class. Although the gender ratio in her law classes grew bigger per year as students switched courses in between years, she stayed steadfast to her studies in criminal justice and by all aspects was a successful and bright college student.

On the other side was a tale of a bitter fight against discrimination.

Basically, barring a few select professors that Makoto tried her best to choose, the rest were all 'mild, unassuming, internalised sexists', as once Makoto spat out bitterly on one particular occasion where no-one had explicitly stated it to her face, but one particular supervisor had asked her why she was aiming so high with the weighted air of the question _'but you're going to be married, have children and leave the job,'_ hanging heavy in between them.

After that particular fiasco they had bypassed the bar altogether and Makoto had a whole hour testing out her Aikido skills on Akira's poor, non-Persona-boosted body as they sparred, with another full hour after of sitting in the park and drinking wine straight from the bottle.

"There are approximately 262,500 police officers active in Japan right now," Makoto once said with a frown, "but only 23,400 female officers nation-wide. Women only represent around 9% of the force. And how many female police commissioners have you seen, Akira?"

On the news? None, and Makoto had nodded with a sigh.

"I knew this road would be hard, so I'm not surprised," she'd said with resignation. "I knew that I'd be fighting prejudice and social standards every step of the way. What I didn't expect was just how much there'd be even before I even became an officer. Half the reason I wanted to become one was to prevent any situation like yours ever happening again, but here I am being stuck before I can even touch all of that because I have different _equipment_ between my legs and—"

Makoto usually cuts herself there, gritting her teeth with eyes narrowed and anger that reminds Akira of Queen in her brightest, most angry moments, screaming for her Persona to obliterate her opponents.

"Are you going to give up?" Akira says though, towards this woman who has fallen silent into contemplation, because he knows what his duty is here, as a friend. Makoto Niijima isn't the type to give up. She trailblazes towards the goal she's set for herself no matter where she's placed. He's just the pit-stop, a place where she can park herself and let loose without judgment and concern so that she can better maintain that fearless, terminator image that she needs in front of everyone else.

"Never," Makoto declares, just as always, before she downs her last shot and waves at Akira to finish off the rest of the bottle. "As you've taught me, Akira," she says with a softer expression, nostalgia-tinged, "no matter how large the difficulties are, as long as we don't compromise our convictions, as long as you find people who you believe and trust in, we can overcome all odds. You and the Thieves," and Makoto closes her eyes, smile small and gentle like few ever see it, "remind me every day to work hard and strive. Our jobs aren't done yet, and if I falter, I'd be too ashamed to call myself chief strategist in front of you guys ever again."

Akira feels himself smile, playfully saying, "That's our ever-indomitable chief strategist," while swallowing another response.

 _You're so strong, Makoto,_ was something that rose and fell from his lips, something of a painful admiration. She proves herself strong over and over again when she presents an impeccable presentation and still can't win over a particularly conservative teacher, when she does extra classes not truly because of passion but to win over professors who look at merit. She pushes hard because she wants that end goal but also because she has no other choice, and Akira only wishes she didn't need to prove herself so strong, over and over, in a world that'd ask that of her forever. She carves deep shadows beneath her eyes, she complains about premature stress lines, she pulls late nights at LeBlanc up to 4 AM for extra credit because of his continuing offer of free coffee, and Akira just wants to push that all _away._

He's her pitstop friend though, her one and only throughout the years, and he knows Makoto doesn't need protecting. She's charging ahead to _create_ that world where people like her and her sister don't need to face chauvinist remarks about 'getting a husband', she's going to be a voice of change so that others won't need to be hurt like how she needs to hurt herself, getting to the top.

The only thing he can do is be there for her.

"I know where I can get another recommendation anyway," Makoto says with a hint of smugness at the thought of getting one over her current supervisor, "I'll just need to put a few extra hours on it."

"Imagine the look on his face when he sees you on the podium," Akira points out with a hint of a smirk, and Makoto laughs as they get up.

"I'll be sure to record it for you," Makoto says as they split the bill between them, walking up onto street level where they're greeted with a bombardment of rainbow neon lights, flashing and advertising their shops in one of the seedier areas of town. Makoto winces regrettably at her parked motorcycle, touching her face with the back of her hand. "I think I might have drunk too much," she says, and Akira shrugs.

"When has that ever stopped us?" He replies, perhaps not the best influence on a future police commissioner, and Makoto shoots him a devilish smirk.

"Well, I do know the patrol routes. We're pretty close to the sea, aren't we?"

That night Akira raises his arms with an adrenaline-filled grin consuming his face as Makoto speeds down a highway parallel to a glimmering silver ocean, the pebble beach a broad strip of white that reflects a pathway all the way to the moon. Makoto's laughing as he settles down to hug her again when she needs to do a turn. She's all warm leather with a hint of coffee, all wired strength and determined purpose, and she revs her engine to go even faster when all they see past the turn is a never-ending straight road down the coast.

For a moment they leave behind the world.

Akira wakes with tears on his cheeks and the taste of the sea in his mouth, his chest brimming with feelings he doesn't know how to name.

  


* * *

  


Akechi rarely talks about his past. It's mainly because he's never had people to speak it with, foster parents rarely interested in interacting with him unless it's to prove their preconceptions of him being a troublemaker right. Social services had nice people, from time to time, but they were usually too harried and stressed from their case loads. And he would never mind his schoolmates with their happy families and innocence held intact because of their parents.

It's not a pleasant topic anyway, when he thinks of hunger and homelessness.

It's an undefinable thing, the feeling of all-consuming hunger when you know there's no possible food to fill it. It's a gnawing ache that chews through the organs and up your throat, a pain that distracts and made Akechi's hand shake as he filled in his homework sheets anyway, trying to overcome hunger cramps that made it hard to fall asleep. Some foster parents weren't the most well-to-do themselves, while others would sometimes 'forget' to provide food because they liked to see him beg, perhaps, or because they could justify calling him greedy.

Homelessness, however, he had only known a taste of for a few weeks.

One pair of foster parents liked a special type of punishment. During evenings with business, or when Akechi didn't have the best marks. If he looked too belligerent and disrespectful when he addressed them, they would put him outside for the night.

He was thirteen and he sat outside on the street glad that it wasn't winter. His hair was long enough to cover his face if he buried his head in his arms, and he'd scrunch himself into a ball as he stared out onto a busier street. People rarely looked down at people like him, colourfully dressed and laughing on their phones with their friends. Akechi would watch these people for hours until the traffic dwindled into the lone pair or two, a single drunk man stumbling, shops pulling down blinds for the day. Then it would only be him for a few hours, with only the streetlamps lighting silvery circles of empty pavement as company.

Though he was conflicted as to whether he wanted someone to notice him, he knew his feelings didn't matter in the end. None of the thousands of people who passed cared, just like he wouldn't care if he was the one walking down the street. If the world were ever to social strata obvious, then it was most prominent in those moments when he was the unwanted litter left on the side of the walkway.

Though perhaps it's only natural, he thought as he watched the people come and go. This abandonment. They were those with family and friends, those with money and power, those with possessions and a home. Then what was him, with none of that? In all measures of social worth, he owned nothing. To have nothing and demand someone to care was a foolish notion.

He stared out at the world, hands fisting his shirt, kindling as much feeling as he could – injustice, anger, anything – until the morning broke and the house behind him would unlock the doors and let him in to prepare for school because a bad attendance record would be a bad mark on them.

Back then he wished for something small, something he could fit in. Something that he could call entirely his own. A home is probably something that can't be ripped away from underneath him, something that holds belongings he loved, somewhere warm and safe that would bring a smile to his face. If he had money, he'd do that immediately, Akechi decided as he transformed whatever feelings he had into vicious envy, trying to avoid the breeze whistling up the street. He'd buy all the things he's always wanted, he'd fill it with shelves of things that catch his eye. He'd make the place _his._ He'd create it by himself, the thing that no-one wished to give him.

It took a few weeks until an elderly policeman noticed him sitting outside and reported the situation. Then he was moved, once again, to another institution, then another home that wasn't truly a home, because the parents smiled fake most the time and his possessions were all impersonally bought and only his to be used, not kept.

  


* * *

  


"Yoshimi-san, please don't refuse," Akechi heard that morning when he was rounding the corner to Shibuya station to pick up some groceries that Saito needed, and it was the familiar deep cadences that make Akechi give pause.

In a corner of Shibuya station, in an area where trash was kept, there was a youth kneeling on one knee in front of a shabby man sitting in the corner. In between them laid a small plastic carton, and Yusuke Kitagawa pushes it forward.

"Yusuke, don't tell me you bought this with your own lunch money," says the bedraggled man, clearly unshaved for at least a week with clothes that hang loose. "Madarame doesn't really give you much, does he?" The man continues with a wry tone of voice that flies completely over Yusuke's head.

"Even though I understand that my allowance isn't that large because Sensei has been struggling as of late, with the coming exhibition I know that we'll be secure for the next few months. So please don't worry about me, Yoshimi-san! I can," and Yusuke falters, shoulders drooping, and Akechi can practically see the expression of disappointment and frustration on the artist's expressive face. "I can only help you so much, after all. Sensei doesn't approve when I mention you and the others. Please forgive me."

"Madarame, struggling," Yoshimi scoffs, but he doesn't say anything more in front of Yusuke as he opens the carton and only takes one sandwich out of the two, friendly smile evident in his voice. "Let's share, Yusuke. I bet you haven't eaten breakfast yet either, have you? You always forget breakfast on Sundays."

Yusuke moves to sit next to the homeless man, refusing to take the other sandwich. "I bought it for you, Yoshimi-san," Yusuke says with the most matter-of-fact tone in his voice, and that's when Yoshimi sees Akechi standing there with his case in hand, watching them. His eyes narrow, and he obviously wants to urge Yusuke away – afraid for his reputation, perhaps?

Akechi glances at the station clock. He has time, and Sundays were under Fusa's supervision anyway.

He doesn't have a clear objective when he walks towards them, but it's easy to pull Yoshimi's name from Endo's notes. One of the discredited artists, their name useless now as testimony. Yusuke looks up at him without recognition, face confused while Yoshimi looks at him in suspicion.

"If Yusuke Kitagawa, student of Ichiryusai Madarame is here, then you must be Yoshimi Chisaka, his former student?" Akechi asks with a smile, and Yusuke raises his hands to make a rectangle, framing Akechi's features even while Yoshimi squints at him.

"And why is the esteemed Detective Prince here talking to just another homeless man?" Yoshimi says with suspicion, and Akechi crouches, smile unfaltering. Yusuke has dropped his hands, however, registering the consequences of Yoshimi saying _Detective Prince,_ his face holding a rare look of panic.

"I'm flattered you've heard of me." Akechi tilts his head, crinkling his eyes like he has thousands of times before. "If you have, then I'm sure you know that I've been part of the team investigating the mysterious coma incidents," Akechi says, still conversational. "Although little headway into the actual case itself has occurred, it has been an enlightening process in finding deeper scandals in all levels of government, security and otherwise by looking at the victims. You probably don't know that the most recent comatose case is a man called Osamu Endo, a former student of Madarame. Investigating him, I managed to find some… especially interesting notes, Yoshimi-san."

Akechi watches as Yoshimi widens his eyes as he realises what Akechi is implying – Yoshimi's own testimony in Endo's notes, the fact that Akechi recognised his name and Yusuke's profile in the first place – while Yusuke is blinking rapidly.

"Osamu-san is comatose?" Yusuke asks, looking down at his hands as he folded his long legs up. "When was this?"

"Only yesterday," Akechi replies, candid. "That, and a few other reasons, is probably why it won't hit the media until a few weeks later."

"The exhibit," Yoshimi spits out even as Yusuke looks up at Akechi.

"You're a detective, correct? Does that mean you're looking into the issue of Sensei's affairs?" Yusuke asks earnestly, and Yoshimi subsides. It's obvious the older looks to Yusuke in a protective manner, despite the obvious hatred he has towards Madarame.

"Perhaps. I'm not sure," Akechi admits. Madarame will go to jail whether or not he acts, with the situation changing for the better with the Phantom Thieves' actions. It's also the first case that truly captures public attention to the extent that Shido will start incorporating them into his plans, and he doesn't want to affect that. He can swoop in afterwards just like how he is doing with Kamoshida with Endo's notes in hand, saying he did preliminary checks on Madarame as an excuse. It is the most convenient course of action, and the most logical besides.

He looks at Yusuke Kitagawa, who will have his world shattered in the next few weeks or so, and sees the steadfast denial that he's living in. The artist had been one of the odder ones in the Thieves.

They hadn't interacted much. Akechi's agenda held no shadow of Yusuke, while Yusuke himself was happy enough to live in his own world even when fully engaged.

Akechi hadn't forgotten that when Minato freed him from _whatever's_ control, Yusuke Kitagawa had been one of the few connections he had forged despite all that.

When had that been? How had that happened?

"The evidence I have is currently circumstantial and isn't concrete enough," Akechi says, watching the two, and a part of Yoshimi's demeanour falls in disappointment. Perhaps clean-shaven and showered he would look like the early twenties man he is, instead of looking stressed and near middle-aged. "But there is enough material to start an official investigation to gain that evidence."

"Please don't!" Yusuke says immediately, surging forward to grasp Akechi's arm. "Sensei has been stressed enough lately, managing the exhibition, and he's recently saying that he's recovering from a creative block that has been tormenting him for quite a while. I, I do not wish any setback upon him." Yusuke curls in a little, down at his feet. "He is an admirable person, despite any rumours. He took me in as an orphan, after all. So please desist any investigations you have on him. I'm certain they're mostly defamatory lies."

Yoshimi, chewing his sandwich and listening to them on the side, slowly stops. He puts down the second sandwich he picked up, placing it back into the carton and clicks it shut again.

"Yusuke," Yoshimi says, tone still friendly even though it's – it's sad, frustrated. "We probably shouldn't meet again," he says, pushing the carton back. "Doesn't Madarame usually drive you to school so you avoid crowded stations like this?"

"Yes, well, there was a model I wanted—" Yusuke says, turning towards his past fellow apprentice before his words slowly die. Yoshimi probably knows that Yusuke picked up on absolutely zero of his cues because although his smile has noticeably bittered, there is still no aggravation against Yusuke when he hauls himself up.

"You're still Madarame's apprentice, you shouldn't be slumming with a kicked-out layabout like me. You'll make him angry, y'know," Yoshimi says, before waving goodbye to them both and walking away.

When Yoshimi was finally out of sight, Yusuke looking lost at the sandwich still in the empty carton, Akechi says, almost conversationally. "Kitagawa-san, you may not know this, but Yoshimi Chisaka was one of the few people who gave testimony in Osamu Endo's notes."

"Ah, that's—" Yusuke breathes out, before slumping. "I see. No wonder he… I have offended him greatly."

Yusuke takes the plastic carton in his hands with the lone sandwich inside, looking forlorn. Akechi watches him, the last Phantom Thief he has yet to create a more positive note with, and he tilts his head.

"Kitagawa-san, I have to admit. I may know a little more than you expect about the true situation with Madarame." Yusuke's head shoots up, conflict strong in his eyes.

If Akechi had to name it, then Yusuke looked like one torn and near fraying.

Yes, hadn't Fox admitted that it wasn't ignorance that spurred his defence of Madarame, but denial born from faith? It must be torture for someone so passionate about art to abet the injustices and plagiarism that Madarame commits daily, though that passion simultaneously wars with his gratitude for Madarame raising him as his ward. In a sense, Yusuke Kitagawa had been the most loyal of them all – a man who would betray himself before ever betraying another. "I can open an investigation with what I have on hand," Akechi continues. "But seeing as you will be one of the key witnesses to any case opened up about Madarame, I am willing to wait if you're unwilling to cooperate."

Yusuke opens and closes his mouth, before looking away. Akechi simply reaches into his pocket and holds out a business card that Naho printed for him as a joke. It has his name on it, the number for his investigation's unit at Headquarters, as well as his own personal number printed on quality cardboard.

"Call me when you're interested in pursuing the truth, Kitagawa-san," Akechi says, placing a sympathetic smile on his face. 

Yusuke stares down at it, mouth pressed into a thin line until he slowly reaches out and takes it.

"Thank you… Goro Akechi-kun," Yusuke says, reading off the card. "Now if you'll excuse me," he stands up, and Akechi follows suit. "I have a painting that I have to return to. It is somewhat of an urgent piece."

"It was lovely meeting you as well, Kitagawa-kun," Akechi responds, and they both give each other perfunctory bows and depart.

  


* * *

  


He spends his Sunday morning with Saito at her home, helping her move a few large boxes in preparation for her grandson's late morning visit. Her house is a small wooden affair ensconced in an old district, sagging power lines and paint-peeled walls, but there's no graffiti or signs of disturbance so the area merely feels vintage instead worn out.

Saito doesn't have much of a front yard, only a couple of metres enough for a box or two for some ferns. The house itself holds a small living room with a television and a small desk in the corner, a kitchen, a combined laundry and toilet downstairs, and a bedroom up some creaking steps on the second floor.

Saito herself seems to favour the back yard, where traditional wooden doors slide wide open to favour a view of a larger yard than most, a few solid metres of flowers, pathways and small decorative fruit trees before a slate grey wall rises up to hedge another neighbour's yard. On the wide wooden porch lies a few cushions and a small table where there are remnants of many days of sitting in quiet silence listening to the wind-chime hanging from the doorway, the television a low babble from behind.

"Thank you so much, Akechi-kun," Saito smiles as Akechi hauls the heavy box of winter goods up onto a low shelf. "I used to be able to do this much, but this year I'm afraid my back failed me when I tried," she says with a laugh, and Akechi smiles.

"It's honestly no trouble. I was planning on finishing homework until afternoon anyway," Akechi replies as he follows Saito back down the stairs to a kotatsu set packed away in the corner. Saito prepares a batch of cookies every time her grandson is slated to visit, and there's a plate full of them on the small table already, alongside a pot of tea and with two small cups.

"Finish your homework here, Akechi-kun," Saito says with a smile, settling herself on a cushion and waving Akechi to do the same, clearing the table of the cookies enough so that a book could fit. "Providing you with a quiet place to sit seems only natural when you even got a few groceries I forgot."

Akechi ends up pulling his homework out and sits only for a while until, under Saito's mildly amused eye, he needs more space and places a few notebooks on the floor to the side. Then he spreads a few sheets of research on the wide porch for easier access before he's suddenly blinking up at Saito who's presenting him with another cushion.

"You obviously want to sprawl, Akechi-kun," Saito's laughing somewhere in her voice, placing another cushion on the floor. "I'm glad to see you're making yourself home here," she's saying. Suddenly he's very self-conscious of the mess he made. He does favour large desks for the express purpose of having quick access to any information he wishes to have, but to do all this in someone else's house is a slip of decorum he never would have normally made.

All Saito does is refill the plate of cookies, slowly go the kitchen to refill the pot of tea, before settling back down.

"Don't look so uncertain, Akechi-kun," Saito says with a smile. "Minoru also liked to study on the porch like this when he was young, it's actually very nostalgic."

Minoru Saito is the elusive grandson's name; someone he's only ever heard but not seen. Many of Saito's gifts are precluded by his existence, though more and more often Saito has just been giving him random trinkets that caught her eye that she bought then didn't know where to put. Although Saito has never once mentioned any of her other family, her grandson is mentioned relatively often.

"Go on," Saito says with a friendly push to his shoulder, and… Akechi hasn't done this very much before.

By the time he's awkwardly manoeuvred himself into a position that's frankly detrimental to long-term health and posture, leaning slumped against the doorpost with his notes on one knee, Saito has nodded with approval and set the television to some traditional music channel pumping out enka. To the background of nasal warbling she happily gets back up to clean with a basic explanation of 'Minoru is allergic to dust, you see'.

"It's just Japanese," Akechi explains to Saito when she pops her head in, once in a while, and Saito sometimes squints at the poems that Akechi is looking over with curiosity and laughs when she recognises some.

"School never changes," she says fondly, having finished wiping the table and set up three places at the low table for morning tea.

Ten o'clock passes, then eleven. Television shows on the music channel change from traditional enka to more modern pop. The clock moves inexorably on as Akechi finishes his essay and discusses the changing of the times with Saito. They don't delve too deeply this time, the clock in the corner ticking louder as time wears on.

Saito smiles only when she notices Akechi looking at her as noon approached, face creasing into concern from the corner of his eye as she slowly packs the extra cookies she baked into a familiar Tupperware jar. She clears the table by twelve, pouring a bowl of snacks for Akechi instead, and at twelve-thirty she picks up a phone call from her mobile on the first ring.

"Minoru?" She asks, her voice cheerful. "How are you? Are you alright?"

There's a murmur on the phone, and Saito nods. "I'm only glad that you're fine, I was getting worried. I understand if you're busy with college classes, make sure you study well, okay? Are you eating alright?"

There's another reply, curt.

"Sorry for nagging you," Saito says, sounding genuinely regretful to Akechi's amazement, before continuing with a more hopeful note. "Will you be free any time soon?"

The call cuts with a quick goodbye, and Saito looks at the screen for a moment before turning to Akechi. It's obvious by the slope of her shoulders, the way her smile doesn't truly reach her eyes, but she's also trying her best to not let her disappointment affect her and Akechi – he can respect that. Even if he's stayed steadily silent with jaw locked, teacup held tight as something in him spits (ungrateful, a part of him thinks with disgust, thinking of how precious even one kind word would have been to so many he knew), he can melt his expression into one gentle in remorse when Saito says, "I'm so sorry for dragging you out this morning, Akechi-kun. I know you must be busy, but it seems like I can't introduce you to Minoru after all. I could only hope that my company sufficed."

"It's a shame I couldn't meet Minoru-san today," Akechi says, voice kind and pleasant with absolutely no sincerity. "But please don't underestimate yourself, Saito-san. I've completely finished the week's homework, and your cooking is as wonderful as ever. If anything, I should thank you for allowing me to visit."

Saito laughs. "Keeping an old lady company mustn't be the most interesting thing you could have done on a Sunday, Akechi-kun. But… thank you. You are always a lovely guest. If anything, I'm the one blessed to know you."

She pours him another cup of tea, and her smile makes Akechi think of Shido, for a moment. His smirk when he spoke of his manipulation of Hinata Osumi, of his voice in his ears saying _'he'll turn to me, our game of give and take'._

He takes the cup of tea and murmurs a compliment into the steam, of its scent and flavour that makes Saito beam.

She waves him goodbye at the entrance, pushing yet another container of cookies at him with a sharp insistence that they weren't second-hand gifts.

"What flavours do you like in your desserts, Akechi-kun?" Saito asks right before he turns around, and Akechi doesn't particularly have favourites for sweets. He just likes having them.

"Perhaps," Akechi trails off in thought, hand propping his chin. "Coffee?"

"Done," Saito promises with a smile and pat on the arm. Then with a small bow, she shuffles back inside the cool darkness of her empty house.

Akechi looks down at his phone. Still time left.

**Sun Rank 4 – Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  


Fusa replied and said his issue could actually wait until later as he checked over some facts, so his afternoon was dedicated to Akira instead.

For some reason, there's a little excitement in his chest that washes away a negative mood that he didn't notice until now, at the thought of spending time with Akira. Time with no obligations, no expectations. Nothing except the knowledge that Akira merely wanted… to spend time with him. He'd apparently gotten sick of studying for his upcoming exams and wanted to _do_ something.

Specifically, they were cycling.

On Sundays the roads around the Imperial Palace were usually closed for tourists and cyclists, a friendly three-kilometre ride close to the city. It had various eateries during the course, and since it was a particularly clear Spring day, Akira said cycling seemed 'only natural' after Akechi mentioned that he liked cycling through various tracks of Tokyo.

It's only a shame that they missed cherry-blossom season, Akechi thinks as he waited at a bike hire. There was another track that he thought Akira would surely appreciate, filled with more trees and nature and open spaces. The city could be a little claustrophobic to those unaccustomed, and if they were to take a break why not go all the way?

Akira arrives with little fanfare, walking towards him with his phone out as he checked the map. Akechi sees him wandering in quite early - the Imperial Palace was surrounded by particularly wide roads. Morgana's nowhere to be seen in Akira's bag when he approached, however, and Akechi raises an eyebrow.

Weren't they stuck to the hip? Didn't Akira bring Morgana everywhere, including the bathroom?

"Where's your cat, Akira-kun?" Akechi asks, utterly unaccustomed to not having blue eyes staring at him over Akira's shoulder, and Akira breaks into a smug grin.

"He was being curious and followed a stranger, but all he did was get more curious and eat too much," Akira replies, and at Akechi's frank confusion he elaborates. "He ate too much sushi so now's he's groaning at home."

"It would have been hard balancing a cat on one of these bikes anyway," Akechi says, moving over the topic. Odd, but not his concern. If Akira was here and not worrying over Morgana at home, then matters were probably fine. "There're no baskets, so we'll be placing our bags into lockers."

Soon enough Akechi is leading the way through the route, pointing out various points of interest as they went. Akira cycles through it all, blinking placidly as he looks briefly at sights before his eyes go straight back to watching him talk. Then he'll only look away again when Akechi points to something else with a little trivia attached. Both agree that it was a good choice to cycle today, with roads near empty and a breeze that blows gentle through their hair. Something about the lack of sky-scrapers and clear air eliminates any urban claustrophobia, and their conversation remains light as they catch up on small events in their lives.

They take a quick break underneath some trees, and Akira sprawls on the bench the moment he sits. He's under a tree, green leaved and vibrant, staring at the sky. Although it's an entirely different locale – there's the sound of traffic in the distance, petroleum lingering in the air and chatter from a group of girls enjoying a day out nearby – the dappling of sunlight on his face reminds him of another day, up a mountain, the both of them more uncertain than they were now.

"I'm guessing you want this?" Akechi asks after a quick trip to a nearby vending machine, and with a hint of mischief, presses the ice-cold bottle to Akira's face. Akira doesn't react as he should – there's no comical shock or jump in surprise. Instead, Akira gives him a pointed look, before he breaks into a smirk and leans into it, pressing his whole cheek onto the bottle.

"Thanks, honey," Akira says, all hooded eyes and _instigation_ , and it startles Akechi into a laugh.

"No worries, darling," he replies smoothly, never to be outdone this time even in ridiculousness, and his returning smile might have a bit of satisfied edge to it when Akira's eyes fly open, startled as he looks up at him. Akechi throws the bottle onto his lap as he takes a spot next to Akira, sitting neatly in comparison to his easy slouch, twisting his own bottle open. The water is cooling against the beating sun they've been casually cycling through, and he breathes out with a satisfied sigh.

He hasn't cycled for a long time now that he thinks of it. Too preoccupied with his increasingly unstable relationship with Shido before Fusa, and even after Fusa he had simply been busy. If it weren't for Akira, he wouldn't have been reminded of this hobby.

"Work and obligations take me to many different locales in Tokyo, but there's something special about cycling that makes reoccurring sights worth seeing," Akechi muses even as Akira chugs down his water. "I guess you could say that's why I like going through town like this. Do you have any other hobbies other than horticulture?"

Akira wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, tilting his head in thought.

"Eating," Akira says seriously, and Akechi blinks in surprise.

"That is a little unexpected. I guess I can see the logic in eating for pleasure. There are many who hunt for different foods to engage the palette. Is this why you cook so often?"

Akira nods. "You can do anything if you cook yourself," Akira explains. "Experimentation is fun."

"I'm afraid unlike cycling together, I will only ever be able to watch your cooking efforts," Akechi pauses a little at his last memory of trying to cook, prompted by a recipe that even Atsuzawa – his fellow disaster at cooking – had assured had been easy. He was apologising to Saito a week later for setting off the smoke alarm. "I still remember that dorayaki we ate. I admit I am a little envious at your skills since I am still quite… underwhelming in that area."

"I'll teach you one day," Akira says, easy, before standing up and tucking his half-drunk water bottle into its slot on his bike. He looks over his shoulder, and there's a playful challenge in his eyes when he cocks his head towards the end of the track. "Race you back?"

"Are you sure you wish to test your skills against mine?" Akechi says, although he can't help but rise to the challenge as he finishes his bottle of water and throws it away in a nearby trash can. "I can be quite formidable when I'm focused."

Akira's replying smirk is all _'try me'_. Akechi kicks the stand and gives Akira a second before he takes off. He's not even a split second behind, and soon the wind is cutting at their cheeks and hair, bikes whirring as they speed down the open streets, sunlight in their eyes and hearts in their mouths as they both tried to outspeed the other.

In the end Akechi reaches the bike hire first, screeching to a stop. He turns around at Akira, who lags behind only two paces only a little out of breath and declares triumphantly "I win!"

Akira affects a small, dramatic sigh. "So you did," Akira nods. "What's the prize?"

"I will take it as a raincheck," Akechi decides, finding that there's an uncontrollable smile on his face that he can't push down into something more appropriate and that Akira was _seeing_ that, so he turns around. "Let's bike another round."

Afterwards Akira gifts him some snacks – some strawberry daifuku brand he's never eaten that he knows had been popular lately – and they share it as they walk back towards the station. Some of the adults in the area look a little disapproving that they were eating, talking and walking at the same time.

However, the thought of his reputation is farther than usual. Akechi finds that the emotion bubbling in his chest, foreign and full, is _happiness._ He can't help but lean in closer to listen to Akira's words, and find satisfaction that Akira also is smiling, slight, as he strolls down the street with hands in his pockets as he listens in turn to Akechi talking, for some reason, on the legalities of portraiture.

"I can't remember the last time I've had such a relaxing afternoon," Akechi says at the station. Akira's standing there, hands tucked in pockets, nods. "This break will keep me going for quite a while. Thank you, Akira-kun," he says, and there's a moment when they both look at each other for a long, frozen moment before Akira reaches out and tugs him down the stairs.

"We'll do something fun next time too," Akira says, and Akechi stops short, nearly, because this afternoon truly had been _fun._

What a… foreign concept.

"I'll look forward to it. I'll let you handle the next activity since cycling was my suggestion. Thoughts?"

Akira grins. "I'll surprise you."

**Fool Rank 4 – Akira Kurusu**

  


* * *

  


Morgana is groaning less when Akira comes back to LeBlanc for a change of clothes and a quick shower. Akira honestly has no sympathy – a few days worth of worries that Morgana had gotten cat-napped by the mysterious man, perhaps run over by a truck, or maybe even gotten involved in cat territorial warfare (the possibilities had truly been endless) and all he'd been doing was lounging around in someone else's arms eating fatty tuna.

Akira pokes his stomach when he's passing by Morgana, and the cat has energy this time to swipe at his finger angrily.

"Hey, don't do that! My digestion is delicate!"

Akira squints down at him, before taking time to go across the alleyway and taking a bath when he smells the medicinal herbs seeping out from the door. He ends up soaking for longer than he expected, having engaged in mild chatter with an elderly man in the neighbourhood who hangs around in Yongen-Jaya. He's an enlightening source of gossip, even if Akira mostly gives hums and nods of encouragement, the man chatters all about the backstory of the second-hand-shop owner (his wife died only last year!) and Sojiro Sakura (truly a bachelor after the hearts of many of the aunts in the neighbourhood) and his adopted daughter (haven't seen much of her lately, that Futaba) and other matters.

When he's slightly steaming and sitting back in his room, journaling what happened today (he's never seen Akechi laugh like that before, the older boy always somewhat a serious and solemn personality), Morgana rolls over for the first time and gives a yowl of triumph.

Akira gives him deadpan applause. Morgana gives him an unappreciative grumble and demands to be carried onto the bed.

When he's curling into Akira's sheets, Morgana yawns.

"It seems like they're going to watch you for a while anyway, Akira," Morgana says, blue eyes nearly luminescent in the low bulbs. "I still don't know why since that Narukami guy kept talking to this guy on his phone and he had earphones on, but it seems like they're tracking Metaverse energy."

Akira thought back – the grey-haired man didn't seem the type to act on a whim.

"How long?" He asks, finishing his journal entry, and Morgana stretches his legs, claws catching a little on his blanket.

"I think they've been at it for a while," Morgana replies seriously. "They think those coma incidents is someone else messing with the Metaverse. Instead of stealing their desires like we do, that other person might be giving them a mental shutdown instead."

So a coma was what they could've sent Kamoshida to if Ann had truly shot to kill his Shadow, Akira muses.

"You've been in the Metaverse before us," Akira says, lying down on his bed and nudging Morgana out of the way. "Have you ever seen someone else?"

"No!" Morgana says immediately. "I mean, I remember wandering around the city, and the Metaverse, or even Mementos, but it was always empty! It's only after I met you guys that I met that weird José kid. It was – I was all alone before," Morgana pouts, and Akira reaches out blindly to pat him, his hand landing somewhere on his face or his neck. "Oi, stop that, I don't like people touching my nose."

"The first coma case was in 2014," Akira says, thinking back. It had been big news, and he remembered because Goro had been placed on the case after a few unsuccessful months. "That's around two years."

"I don't know who this GA is, but if they've been powering up for two years we can't underestimate them. Especially since we're just starting," Morgana says seriously. "Also, with how they're suspicious of you, GA might be connected to you somehow, Akira."

"…I doubt it," Akira replies. He literally moved to Tokyo a month ago.

"No, I wouldn't be surprised," Morgana shakes his head, shuffling up until he's near his arm. "You have that mysterious power, you know? You're pretty special, Joker. If that mysterious guy has a connection to you, we shouldn't discount that yet."

There're not many people with the initials GA. He can only think of one, but Goro Akechi is…

If his hometown had proved false, had kicked his heart out the door and tried to forget he existed, then he had placed his heart tentatively in Goro's hands. He placed it, still beating, in his voice on a dark night. In a string of serious text-messages on the genealogy of pea-flowers, in his smile at the end of a long train ride, and his weirdly serious musings on life. His heart jumping when he heard that laugh this afternoon, bright and unexpected.

Ryuji and Ann were both rising sparks, and he finds it unexpectedly easy to let them place pieces of themselves on him, to let them use him to anchor them against the adversaries in life. It's a warm feeling, to be needed, to be seen and trusted so much. But Goro was who _he_ placed pieces of himself into, and if home was where the heart is—

It's impossible.

"We'll face it when we need to," Akira says, and Morgana nods.

"Copy that, Joker. You're the leader, after all."

Morgana snuffles off into sleep a little while later, and Akira closes his eyes wondering if he'll get a new dream again.

He wonders why he hasn't seen Goro yet, grown in the future.

  


* * *

  


Hikaru leads him to the jazz bar tucked in a small alleyway in Kichijoji again, going down the stairs of Jazz Jin confidently and greeting the owner by name.

"Muhen! I'm here!" Hikaru waves, patting his saxophone, and the bar owner smiles. The man is middle-aged but still dressed trendy, slightly alternative in how casually he wears his clothing. It's the usual quirk of Kichijoji, a place that seems to naturally aggregate the fashion-conscious and hipsters, and the sunglasses worn even while inside and in a dark bar don't look out of place, strangely enough.

"Hey, Hikaru. I see you brought a friend. This is when I'll say it's 3000 yen each, but since you're performing tonight I'll let you guys in on the house. I'm looking forward to what you cook up today, Hikaru," Muhen says, his voice low and smooth.

"Will you sing tonight?" Hikaru asks brightly, and Muhen laughs.

"Those days are long over, son. Just get on the podium, and I'll get you both the special drink tonight. Deal?"

Hikaru nods and leads them to an open table, dumping his bags there and making hand signals at Akechi to watch him, walking backwards comically before leaping onto the stage. He doesn't introduce himself, simply preparing his saxophone and standing in front of the closed piano with closed eyes for a moment, before he starts playing. There are obviously crowd favourites that he's played many times, Muhen playing a backing track while other patrons smile and clap. There are solos where Hikaru is playing alone, one highlight when Muhen went around and played a duet with him on piano, ad libs playful in the air, and they're so engrossed that Akechi allows himself to glance around the establishment, taking in the atmosphere a little more now that he's alone.

It's definitely a more mature locale than what most high school students would frequent. It's underground and dark, the clinking glasses and mood lighting tailored for those, perhaps, wanting to wind down after work. The patrons themselves are mostly young adults, well-behaved and dressed casually, willing to chat quietly or listen to their live performer. It's somehow isolated, removed from the greater, omnipresent sounds of Tokyo streets and chattering crowds, and Akechi unconsciously slips into deeper contemplation than usual.

It's honestly comforting. He wishes he knew about this place sooner.

Half an hour later, Hikaru takes a break, taking a big sip of the multi-layered drink that had been sitting in front of him without an owner. A strawberry-lime mix of some kind, with another type of citrus mixed in, and Hikaru grins.

"Goro, did you like my performance?" He asks brightly, and Akechi nods.

"Your playing is as lively as ever. I was never bored," he says, and a few other tables near them give them smiling claps as well that makes Hikaru's ears pink.

"Thanks, Goro." He quickly slips away to play for the rest of the hour before truly stopping, bowing deeply. Akechi has used this time to arrange his schedule for the next week or two. Mementos would be something he'd be careful of, to not bump into the Thieves casually. Madarame… his exhibit was opening some time the week after. That means Yusuke will engage with the Thieves soon. He has to put some work in his investigation of Kamoshida as well, and the detectives have been pushing him to interview Shiho Suzui because they were similar in age. A few interviews for Good Morning Japan, though it was strange Director Yoshizawa wasn't taking extended leave for the death of his daughters. What else? There were Fusa's requests, and he had to pay attention to what the SIU Director was going to do to Sae very soon—

Akechi sighs. Was he so busy last time?

"What are you sighing about, Goro?" Hikaru blinks curiously at him, slurping away at his drink. He seems unperturbed that all the ice had melted, happy to drink colourful slush, and Akechi shrugs.

"Just realising how busy I am," Akechi shows his timetable for the next few weeks to Hikaru just for a few seconds, showing how tightly the packed boxes are, and Hikaru widens his eyes.

"Wowie, that's a lot. Make sure you're taking breaks, Goro! You don't want to be burnt out. That's the enemy of all people. I once risked getting burnt out on practice once, and it was horrible when all I wanted to do was play, but also playing made me want to hurl myself at the wall. Like, stop before it happens!"

"I can't," Akechi replies gently, switching off the screen. "My superiors give me deadlines, and homework doesn't wait for anyone."

Hikaru makes a face at that. "This is why I don't ever want an office job! I think I'd die. Like, I'm not saying office jobs are bad or anything, it's just that to know that the company has your steps mapped out for you – it's stable and everything, but it'd be like breathing in lead all the time, knowing I'm using all my time doing work I don't want to do while realising my dream is right _there_ , if I put money and food later and myself first."

"Money is important though," Akechi can't help but point out with a raised eyebrow, and Hikaru pouts.

"I know, oh man, I _know._ My family… Not only that, I have so many friends weighing money and career, man. Job and food? Or composing a song, recording a CD, with no-one buying it? Like, that's just…" Hikaru blows a raspberry. "But you know better than anyone, Goro, that you'll have to strive hard to succeed! Can't give up in the middle, hey," Hikaru nods to himself, and Akechi leans in.

"Hmm? What are you saying, Hikaru-kun? You skipped a few steps of logic there when you included me."

"I'm saying," Hikaru repeats sagely, like he's come to an answer all by himself, "that as a successful person yourself, Goro, you probably know how much effort you've got to put in to get yourself there. When everyone dreams, they dream of the end goal. I wanna be that famous singer, or I want to be that great author, but no-one dreams of all the crap they have to go through to _get_ there. Like, who would dream of weeks of horrid writer's block, or throat nodules, or something? Like, literally no-one. That's when you need to let passion take hold, right?"

Hikaru looks at Akechi with shining eyes, and Akechi feels like his mask is a few degrees out of place.

"I don't feel like I deserve my fame," Akechi starts, thinking of Shido, of the easy ebb and flow of the public's favour even when he was immaculate and perfect, and Hikaru shakes his head.

"No, no, Misono says that all the time. No, I'm asking – in the middle of a case, when it's super hard and there're no leads and your supervisor is breathing down your neck and there's this horrible victim that wants justice and you're out of your wits, it's pure, determined passion that gets you through, right?"

Akechi doesn't have the heart to say that he usually already has all the answers from Mementos diving. For the past few months since Atsuzawa left, all he's been doing is digging out evidence he already knows exists.

But if, under the pressure of Hikaru's earnestness, he thinks of those days in the office with Takaki, Naho and Atsuzawa, crowded in their small office and going through thick stacks of documents together, he can say…

"Yes, perhaps," he says, low, examining the drink he has on hand, and Hikaru beams, vindicated.

"That's exactly it! And so, all I have to do is become one of those people who will go through all of that to even get a chance to clamber to the top!"

"Alright, top clamberer," Muhen claps Hikaru on the head, and Hikaru winces. "We all know your burning passion for music, but remember tomorrow is a school night and you're both high-school students, right? It's getting late, so I'll give you your pay now."

"No, Muhen! Goro's one of the few people I can talk with about with how important it is to enjoy life by chasing important things," Hikaru insists, taking the wad of cash, and Muhen's smile is definitely amused. His voice is caramel smooth, and Akechi finds himself curious how he'll sound as a singer.

"I'm sure Goro will also appreciate a full night of sleep to prepare for school. Third-year is one of the most important years of your life, don't mess it up now."

 _"Fiiine,"_ Hikaru says. "Goro and I will now finish our drinks in peace, thank you very much, Muhen." And without missing a beat, he turns back to Akechi. "Sooo, basically what I was saying was that I'm thinking that success is great, but chasing the reasons behind success is just as important, or wouldn't everything be meaningless?"

Hikaru's brain truly flies a little wild. But its been a day where he doesn't mind so much to retrace the conversation, making a game of connecting likely logic and thinking it through instead of breeding annoyance.

"Do you mean that even while we suffer to attain our dreams, that success is meaningless if you sacrifice…"

"Dreams!" Hikaru cuts in, "Are not a straight path! They're made of lots of small things. I want to succeed as a musician, of course, but if I don't have my closest family and friends with me at the end, I don't think I'll be happy." Wistfully, he continues. "Therefore, my dream is actually to become a musician that my friends and family will be proud of, I think. Hmm… Thinking what values are most important to me is kind of hard."

Hikaru does a loud slurp to get the remnants of his drink from the bottom of his cup before he plants his head in his hand and looks at Akechi.

"Not rushing you or anything, but I'm curious."

"Yes?" Akechi asks.

"Have you… found a dream yet, Goro?"

Akechi sighs. "Are you going to ask that every single time we go out?" When Hikaru nods, Akechi shrugs, letting himself lean into his chair as well, legs crossed as he lets the casual air of Jazz Jin take over. "I made a promise to someone important to me when I was in… a darker place. He told me to try see the world as beautiful. Maybe that can be my dream for now."

Hikaru purses his lips, something like honest sympathy in his eyes – like he understood, strangely enough, this cheerful human – before he brightens up.

"Ooh, I know! I have a secret trick to help you with that. Goro, close your eyes! Right now!" When Akechi doesn't close them fast enough, Hikaru claps his own hand over them. Akechi only barely stops himself from twisting that arm in a police takedown. "Good! Now, I want you to think of something happy! Anything, okay? Doesn't need to be life-changing. Even something small that happened today is okay."

_"Race you back?"_

_So this is what they could've had, Akechi had fleetingly thought when he saw himself reflected in Akira's smile. They truly could've been friends if they met earlier—_

"Did you think of something?" Hikaru cuts through his thoughts, and when Akechi nods, he claps. "Tada! You've found one beautiful thing!" Akechi opens his eyes, and Hikaru has placed his head in both of his palms, smile something of curled satisfaction. "Now do that once a day, and you'll soon have a long, long list of beautiful things in your mind, Goro."

Akechi watches Hikaru for a long moment, noting down his expression, that honest smile, before he moulds himself into an easy laugh.

"Alright, Hikaru-kun. Muhen-san was right, we do have school tomorrow. I enjoyed your performance more than I expected. Thank you for inviting me." Hikaru brightens up at that, picking up his own bag and saxophone case. They both bow when they pass Muhen, climbing the stairs back up to the chatter of Kichijoji main, manoeuvring past the small crowd of people waiting to go in.

"I'll tell you when I perform next too," Hikaru smiles. "Sometimes there's a singer, so I'll text you those days when she comes as well. Muhen always serves the fancy drinks when she's here, he's totally playing favourites."

It's totally dark outside when they get to the station, and Hikaru winces. "Oh no, ma isn't going to be happy. She doesn't like me performing anyway, and I'm going home so late… Maybe I can crash at Misono's? He lives in Ikebukuro though, that's a different line. Bye, Goro! I'm glad you liked my playing!"

He dives in and crushes him into an unexpected hug, before jumping back and waving because he's pointing to one of the scrolling train schedules and the next train's coming in a minute.

What a full day, Akechi thinks when he's safely back in his dorm room, doing one last edit over his homework. He adjusts the cactus on his windowsill, he resists eating one last cookie before bed because he's already brushed his teeth. He looks over the books and small figurines he's collected, here and there, on his shelves, his growing collection of teas in the cupboard and clothes in his closet and wonders. Hikaru, Saito, Akira and everyone else he knew now, so many lights in the dark.

It has taken him an embarrassingly long time to look up and notice. To see past himself and the great shadow of his past to truly think of the future. Of what it meant to have goals, to dream and decide where to go.

The world is so large. It's an insignificance that doesn't him feel helpless, for once.

Perhaps, it's a little… wonder. That there was something such as this hiding behind Shido's previously hulking shadow.

**Star Rank 4 – Hikaru Kondo**

  


* * *

  


Yusuke finishes his piece – it's a swirl of oil-paint and colour on black, each slash that breaks the lines a drop of his frustration, each droplet of rainbow a dashed hope. It's not beautiful at all, just an expression of his innermost pain that he knows his fellow apprentices (they had all been living together in the atelier like a family once, peaceful as they all chased their dreams) aren't doing well despite their paintings selling for millions at auctions.

He stares at his dried piece, ugly and nothing like what he wishes to create. Yusuke remembers Sayuri's pure expression, gazing down so gently at something unknown in her arms. With that he remembers his Sensei's own gentle hands, holding Yusuke's when he was just five and still playing with Sensei's precious paint instead of using it with any intent. His Sensei's laugh when they drew his first piece together – a wobbly bird – and enshrining it in a place of honour in their living room.

It still hangs there, a piece that inspired much friendly teasing with his apprentices when they saw it during meals. But he is alone now, in this house lacking in peers and fellow artists. The only one who could still forgive Sensei for driving Fujihara-san to suicide.

Fujihara-san had practically raised him, a gentle giant of a man who Yusuke had greeted as a brother for having stayed at their atelier for so long. They had painted together in silence, Fujihara giving him tips when he struggled with his expression. Even when Yusuke heard of the suicide, Fujihara had jumped a few buildings over because, in his note, he didn't want Yusuke to see.

But no-one can blame anyone for a creative slump, and Sensei was so worried about their finances that his mental health had degenerated. Sensei's pain had lasted until that museum curator finally won him over to display his pieces. It was with reluctance, Sensei had told him, but this will be savings for Yusuke's university funds, just in case he didn't get scholarship.

So it's only natural that Yusuke gives Sensei back for his benevolence. It's with pain that Yusuke puts one last brushstroke to the canvas. Sensei's own signature perfectly replicated. He's done it so many times, after all.

He can't help but feel the card burning a hole in his pocket.

Yusuke did some research after he came back. Goro Akechi was the second coming of the Detective Prince, working with elite investigators and public prosecutors alike. Involved in removing a major drug ring when he was only fifteen, by sixteen he discovered a scandal in the Ministry of Nuclear Finance, and was the only one getting any headway on the mysterious, high-profile coma cases.

Such a person was saying they could open a case and investigate the issue if Yusuke betrayed his Sensei. That he could reveal the truth if only Yusuke bent and ratted out his father. Bring justice to Sensei, who hid nothing from him, who Yusuke knows how deeply tormented he is over the current state of the atelier, his own incapacity.

He could do it. Goro Akechi could end it all here.

Yusuke looks at the large canvas in front of him, it's ugly representation of his true feelings when all he should truly feel is _gratefulness_ and clenches his teeth, suddenly ashamed he even had those thoughts.

This is fine.

  


* * *

  


Akechi is barely down a few levels in Mementos when he's confronted with a silver-haired child.

He's never met him before. In fact, there have never been _any_ denizens in the Mementos other than Shadows, but the cheerful car, the childish body, the colour and the way none of the Shadows was bothering him clearly showed this boy was the exception. And he didn't need to approach the boy either – the boy came over to Akechi himself when he's standing there, wide-eyed.

"Wow, mister!" The boy says. "Your presence is super twisted, it's kind of weird! So you've met The Great Seal, huh?"

Akechi's hand is on his gun, though his instincts tell him that this boy is dangerous.

"Who're you?" He asks, eyes narrowed.

"Me?" The boy laughs. "I'm José, the one and only! Is this where I say nice to meet you?"

  


* * *

  


The day he meets Maruki, so strangely instated in the middle of their exam week, Akira lays down his head and dreams.

It's the longer legs that he's starting to get used to, striding up a hill. It's sweaty work, his lungs burning a little as the hill continues steeply upwards from what he thinks is the outskirts of Tokyo in winter. His wipes sweat from his brow with a sleeve, one slick hand grasping a bouquet of flowers in his hand tighter as he continues to climb.

When he crests the hill, he is surprised to note that he's at a cemetery. His body doesn't hesitate though, walking through the gates of the cemetery and picking a direction with familiarity. Dried grasses crunch under his feet as he turns to the right, breath puffing out of him in white clouds from the cold air.

The cemetery is ensconced between two streets on a gentle rise, and Akira can see Tokyo proper from here, past all the mossy, forgotten stones lining the edge of the cemetery to where he is now. The gleam of the tomb stones was newer here, with frequent visitors. Akira's feet lead him down another few rows, his body slightly absent-minded as he steps forward.

He can't warn his dream to stop before he bumps into someone just turning the corner. The man is wearing a comfortable cardigan, brown wavy hair slightly tussled. His kind eyes are apologetic when he backs away in a fluster.

"Oh, I'm sorry for blocking your way," an older, slightly more wearied Maruki smiles, rubbing the back of his head. Akira nods in acknowledgement without answering before they both turn towards the same direction. They continue to walk in the same direction for the next two minutes until Maruki breaks out into small uncomfortable laughter. "We, um, we seem to be walking the same way, huh?"

"It seems so," he replies, not really looking at the other man as he continued to stride forward. Even without facing the other man, he could feel the embarrassed air Maruki emits.

"Oh," Maruki droops, and his adult form seems to take pity on him.

"Who are you visiting?" Akira inquires, using his own bouquet of flowers to gesture to the two flowers in Maruki's hands. Two large purple hyacinths and Maruki blinks slowly at the two flowers like he'd forgotten he was holding them before that bashful smile readily returns to his face.

"We'll be at their graves soon, actually," Maruki laughs a little awkwardly, pointing to a tall family grave a little farther away, and they both refrain from speaking until they stop in front of a large monument that stretches high with a list of family names. Maruki's face is filled with sorrow as he steps forward to bend down on one knee. He solemnly places the two hyacinths in a small ceramic vase in front of the grave and stands up to pray.

Akira does nothing, even though his eyes are glued to the last two names.

Kasumi Yoshizawa.

Sumire Yoshizawa.

That girl?

"I was a… counsellor," Maruki decides to open up after he stops praying, and Akira listens intently for what he has to say, eyes still glued to the names on the grave. He doesn't know much about the polite girl he's met only a few times, but to know she'll die is— "I once saw a depressed girl who struggled to overcome the death of her beloved sister. Although I tried my best, I couldn't save her. She took her own life a few months later."

Maruki's gaze is soft as he adjusts his glasses with a resigned laugh. "You're not supposed to get emotionally attached when you're a counsellor, you know. I guess that's why I stopped soon after. I couldn't…" He sighs. "I just understand all too well, about things you can't let go."

Akira's hand clenches on the bouquet of flowers in his hands with an audible crinkle of plastic, and Maruki looks at him with a terrible sort of pity.

"You too? Would you mind if I join you?"

Akira pauses, before shaking his head. When he continues forward, Maruki joins him in silence.

A row down, on a small, nondescript stone. It is obviously plainer and cheaper than the grand family monuments they had passed, but it was relatively well-kept all the same. It's surrounded by yellowed grass that withers around the edges of the slab, and Akira always felt a stab of shame that this was all he could arrange for him when he had the chance.

His body bends down to place the flowers this time, stepping back, taking in the sight.

Somewhere, Akira stops breathing.

"Who was he?" He hears Maruki ask distantly.

"My greatest rival," he hears his voice answering softly. "A friend I couldn't save."

In front of his eyes, clearly emblazoned.

GORO AKECHI

1998 – 2016

"You too?" Says Maruki past the distant sadness his older self is feeling, and Akira, Akira is panicking somewhere, a sort of numb horror even as his older self nods with a sadness well-tempered by time. "And so young too," Maruki says with genuine grief, their heads bowing in prayer as the two odd strangers share a moment of silence over the grave of his friend.

"He would've hated me visiting him," Akira says, voice deep and soft, barely a murmur on the breeze. But that's okay because Maruki was an attentive listener next to him, mouth set in a line of overwhelming empathy. "We didn't have the chance to… be normal, even though we both admitted that if given another chance we could've been friends. True friends."

Maruki breathes out next to him and says something that Akira can't hear because he'd wrenched himself out of the dream. His eyes stare at the dusty beam on top of him, tracing its dark shadow down to the odd lump that's his desk. When his mind flashes back to that vision of the tombstone, bare and small and surrounded by frost and dust, his lungs nearly seize until he forces a deep breath in. He's surrounded by the scents of LeBlanc again, Morgana a warm ball of sleeping fur next to his ribs. The air is not the crisp chill of winter, he is not winding his way through the sombre, weighted air of winter dead.

These dreams had predicted Morgana, Ryuji, Anne. Never mind that when he met all of them he got a dream of their future selves in the future, and all he received when he met Goro years ago was a wistful pot of marigolds.

Of course, he thought with another jolt of painful realisation. Marigolds. Cruelty, passion, jealousy.

_Grief._

He thinks of Goro when he sat in the bakery in a moment where he was lost in thought, propping his chin in one hand with eyes tracking something he couldn't see. The sunlight had been slanted across the table in front of him and left him in the shaded corner, hands burning white in comparison to everything else as he quietly looped letters onto his notebook. He'd later shown the essay to Akira, a thoughtful historical piece, as he sat patiently waiting for his reply. Those brown eyes that sometimes flashed auburn red, who had always, unhesitatingly, looked back at him when Akira tried to get his attention.

Thin smiles, too-sharp eyes and pleasant masks.

And Akira thinks, determination flaring.

_No._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Um, lots of things happened, hey. Here's your cliffhanger! Some nice fuzzy things to shore ourselves up, Akechi is getting more wholesome when he interacts with his more positive Arcana, and I hope I do that sort of gradual-ness alright. I think adult guidance is great, but peers really solidify certain things in a different way. I finally nailed myself down after my small break chapter last week where I cracked out my long-unused humour and hammered down a kinda timeline for the next arc, but to be honest it's such a hodgepodge of Arcana compared to last arcs I'm like hrmhrm protag syndrome *puzzles.  
> I bet a few things fell into place with Maruki's dream for those curious. There are still quite a few things that need to be addressed, and some pieces need to slot together, but otherwise the gist of Past!(future)Akira is only going to get clearer. He loves his friends so much.
> 
> (someone told me a week? or two ago? That Akechi is a noob because he doesn't have the Hierophant arcana, and thinking where I placed the Hierophant I was like... @_@ omg Akechi _is_ a total noob. I'll change Inokashira park soon! *cough. I haven't even fixed all the senpais yet lol)  
> Yusuke and Madarame arc next chapter! Some Ryuji and Ann action too. Akira's hmm. Well, he's going to try his best and he has tools, but he has a lot going on too, haha.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! Some of your comments got me thinking, like, positively! On why people are reading this. I was enlightened. So thank you, hehe. I wonder if you guys get tired my thanks, but I won't stop. :3 Just like Futaba, and I'm looking forward to her so much, but still three to four chapters left before her arc comes back. These ANs just get longer, sorry, thanks for reading and coming by, see you next week! I'll edit throughout the week as usual.


	29. Chapter 29

Absolute privilege.

This was what being born as Masayoshi Shido was like. Since birth, Shido has been above others in looks, bearing, eloquence, intelligence and wealth. The servants of his house had been glad to praise their young master, his schoolmates had been proud to merely stand next to him. His journey as a politician had been shaky at first, but with the power of money and some dirt on some of the lesser, corrupted trash that littered Japanese politics, he had quickly carved an unshakeable place. There had been a small insecurity when he had nearly been outed by a disloyal member of his party in a scandal, but that was when God shone upon him and gave him a way to access a whole other world that delved into the very hearts of man.

He was a man chosen by life. Chosen by the people. Chosen by God himself.

Shido lounges in one of Kaneshiro's more upscale bars, simultaneously languid and short of temper. The VIP service that the crime lord arranged for him included a complimentary meal in an exclusive private room, the plush seats and the crystal fixtures on the walls usually flattering his mood into something more amenable to the ladies that Kaneshiro always arranged for him to his taste. However, the sight of the creamy skin and gentle curves did nothing for him today, his frustration only mounting when nothing the girls whispered to him helped distract from the feeling that strands of his plan were fraying out of his control.

"Masa-sama," one of the girls blinked her wide eyes at him, the girl usually one of his favourites. Kaneshiro had dolled her up especially nice today too, the thin fabric of her dress radiating body heat as she arched into him, soft fingers reaching up to curl around his shoulders. "What's wrong, Masa-sama?"

"Nothing, Ai-chan," Shido says. "I'm just not in the mood today. Get me a drink."

The girl flicks her eyes at the other girls in the room and they all move out silently without protest. The girl herself steps gracefully off his lap and reaches for the bottle of wine on the table, now the perfect, professional hostess feigning unavailable class. The pool of red wine in his glass has already been aerated, and when he sips it he can appreciate the low, slightly tart warmth of Shiraz on his tongue as he swallows. His eyes trace nothing as he delves into thoughts, the girl next to him perfectly silent as she fills his glass again.

There was no doubt in his body that he was chosen to lead Japan to a new era. To clear the trash from society's current state, infested by a listless, unambitious youth, a paralysed working force and the worthless burden of the elderly. The Japanese have always trended towards obedience, but this does not excuse a social, political, and economical apathy in a world that has experienced upheaval after upheaval.

If Japan needed a new leader, then he will step forward to enact a will that even God has approved. He will eradicate the weak, boost the powerful. He is a man of action, and everyone in his party – all of his supporters – saw the potential of his vision. They saw the benefits of the iron fist he wielded that he disguised with flowery poetry for the pathetic masses. Each and every person Shido chose had the potential to be one of his future pillars, to be one of God's own chosen elite.

So why did Goro Akechi refuse his hand?

Therein lies the problem, Shido thinks, swirling his glass in his hand and admiring the dark red of it, the reflection of silver from the low light.

Goro Akechi.

His son from the very first favourite that he had when he was still starting as a politician. A beautiful woman, with slightly wavy brown hair that tumbled over her back and a face like a doll. She had eyes that in certain light would look like molten honey, and a presence as delicate as a butterfly. Her words were like gossamer silk running across skin, well-read and well-spoken. They had a fun year, as he spent money on her in return for her whispers of love.

It was a shame that pregnancy changed her. From gentility into a demanding shrew, from understanding his casual affairs to exclusivity. Ridiculously delusional to the point where she demanded money even after years of separation, threatening him with the child of all things.

It's offensively easy to discredit a whore.

But maybe he did her a disservice, Shido thinks. Perhaps the blood in her didn't dirty her child at all. From what he'd initially thought would be an easy, controllable tool rose a cold, and calculative youth that knew how to gauge his own worth in the eyes of others. It's a manipulation that goes beyond his years, an intelligence that reads into Shido's code of conduct in ways that infuriates and intrigues him at once.

How did he know that Shido valued the worth of negotiations? How did the mere fifteen-year-old boy he met recognise all the traps he casually set, to appease Shido with enough of his abilities to further his cause, yet allow Shido himself feel the burden of those agreements a year or two down the line? How did he know that Shido never rescinded his words as a matter of pride, to use that to wrest control of negotiations so that no matter the odds, power was now placed in both courts?

It should be impossible. He read the reports on Goro Akechi. He had none of Shido's power and prestige, none of his tailored education. In fact, his report read like any other file on society's unworthy leeches, filled with abuse and bullying and neglect that should have produced another piece of unsalvageable trash.

He should not know how to speak in high-class pleasantry, to mingle with confidence among the rich and plenty. He should have been overwhelmed, awed, eager for Shido's casual displays of power. Should have bowed to Shido's whims fuelled by adolescent ignorance, justified by the revenge Shido first thought was his motive.

But no. A bland smile, hidden disdain.

He was proving himself a mystery.

"Ai-chan," he says, and the girl immediately turns her attention onto him. Her smile is calculated, her eyes distant even as she leans in. Business, just like how he likes it. Smart women like her were hard to come by. "Do you love your mother?"

The girl blinks, uncertain. This is far from the usual flirtations that he lets her heap on him, but she recovers quickly.

"Why do you ask, Masa-sama?"

"If someone killed her, would you be angry?"

She smiles and replies neutrally. "Anyone would be, Masa-sama."

"Then for what other reason would you approach her murderer, if not for revenge?"

"If the murderer was in the way of something else I want even more," the girl replies easily, and Shido hums.

Goro Akechi and his cold eyes, burning with hatred and anger. But his actions have all indicated that Shido was merely a stepping stone for his path. A mutual stepping stone, instead of one to be owned and used.

They were both Chosen by God.

Shido was chosen to lead the country. To lead the blind masses, to bring the nation to a new era.

But now he turns his mind to think, drinking the rest of his glass of wine and putting it down. He draws the girl closer, skimming the sheer sleeve, her bare shoulders as his mind turns on an intriguing, new question.

If not to be his tool, what had God chosen Goro Akechi for?

  


* * *

  


The tunnel of Mementos that they're in is not that deep, and the wind blows Akechi's hair from the mask on his face as he faces this… José.

"How do you know Minato?" Akechi asks, and José blinks curiously.

The child in front of him has strangely shaped hair as if someone had placed a plastic grey bowl over his head with jagged edges and stuck it there, with ears that were more accurately described as holes on either side of his head. His irises were inhumanly yellow with an extra ring within, and he smiles at him as if nothing is wrong at all.

"Umm, you mean The Great Seal?" The boy asks, before shrugging. "Doesn't everyone know them? They attached to one of the strongest forces of the Universe and merged! They're kind of super."

José shrugs again in his puffy white coat, still unassuming, still non-hostile. Even though his instincts still tell him that José is not an easy foe to fight, it seems like the child had no interest in fighting in the first place. Even as they stand in the tunnel that they met in, the glowing balloons attached to the boy's cart seems to ward any wandering Shadows away. In fact, it seemed like José existed in a bubble of his own, a bubble of colour and warmth in the windy desolate tunnels that made Mementos.

Akechi narrows his eyes. "What do you mean by saying my presence is twisted?"

"Kind of like… You belong here, but you don't? Sorry, it's kind of hard to explain."

"Then take your time and find the words," Akechi replies, curt, and José hums. He takes a few moments to mull over what he could say, rocking back and forth on his heels as he scrunches up his face.

"You're kind of… folded up. Like this!" José reaches into his cart and takes two pieces of paper. Then he proceeds to twist them together into one long strip. "Those other people I met were just one piece of paper, see? But you're two, and The Great Seal twisted you in so you're technically one piece if you look at it. That's why you feel kind of funny, mister!"

José places the twisted strip of paper in Akechi's hands proudly, and Akechi stares at it.

If José had noticed what he was with one glance, does that mean…?

"Would anyone else have noticed my 'twistedness', as you call it, so quickly?"

"I don't know," José shrugs. "It depends on what they are. I'm pretty good at noticing details! That's how I pick up so much stuff," he waves back at the rest of his cart stacked with different objects. "I made a deal with the other mister to exchange some of the stuff for flowers, so—"

"Why have I never met you before?" Akechi interrupts, and José blinks. He uses large round eyes to look up at Akechi, squinting again, before laughing.

"Oh, you mean from the other place you were before? Of course I couldn't be when I'm here, not there! I don't think humans can be in two places at once either!"

"You're frustratingly vague," Akechi concludes with a sigh, and José laughs, unrepentant.

"Human words are… well. Hard to grasp. They're kind of flat. Anyway, do you want to help me with picking flowers? They'll help me in my studies to understand humans more, and the other mister was pretty interested. It'll help me a lot."

"Did the other mister have a black coat and red gloves?" Akechi asks, already knowing the answer, and when José nods Akechi raises a hand to his forehead.

Akira usually had a very good judge of character, even though he tended towards overly trusting.

"I don't need items," Akechi finally says to this strange, curious boy, "so I'll make another deal. If I bring you these flowers you want, you'll trade me instead with information, and what you know about the Other Side."

José frowns. "Really? You sure? That might be okay because a little bit of you is still in the Sea, but… More flowers…" It doesn't even take a second of contemplation before José is bouncing back. "Okay! I'll try my best! Deal, mister!"

His soul shifts.

The world freezes into a familiar greyscale, but José doesn't freeze with it. Although Akechi's very breath, blood and bones have frozen inexorably, José remains colourful and mobile, eyes widening as his smile becomes a few watts brighter. He looks genuinely gleeful when he says excitedly, "Oh, with me? This is such a privilege! But hey, your Star Arcana is already filled, huh? That would've fit me best… I'll see what else you have left then."

With a wave of his hand, a row of cards appear out of the darkness to line up in front of José, and he squints between them.

"Ew, Hierophant, no. Death, Lovers, Priestess, Emperor… Maybe Strength?" José touches the card before he recoils like he got shocked. "Oh, you're fated to have another wild bond with that one, huh? You're truly a strange one, mister! What else then…"

Akechi has never remained frozen so long before, as he watches the small boy standing there with a thoughtful look on his face, waving his hands as he flicks between cards. Some he lingers on; some he immediately flings away. In the end, José cringingly takes a card, fingers pinching it like it was going to explode on him at any second.

"Well, it definitely doesn't suit me best," José pouts as he looks at it, "but the opportunity for you to connect to this one has already passed, so it's safe for me to take. And being connected to one of humanity's champions will definitely let me understand humans more… That Person has always told me to not be indecisive too." He nods in resolution. "Okay!"

José crushes the card in his palm and the familiar words flow.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Magician** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

The bond settles deep in his mind, and it doesn't feel warm like the rest. It feels lighter, made of something like stardust instead of warm taffy, and José is looking at something in between them with fascination. His tiny hands reach out and play, perhaps with something like a string, before he grasps it in his hand and beams up at him.

"I look forward to working with you, mister! Now that we're connected, I want to speak with you more! Why did you come in Mementos today?"

Towards this definitely inhuman Arcana in front of him (Akechi's mind is whirring with possibilities of what this could all _mean_ , perhaps his first step in understanding the ultimate mystery of Mementos he hasn't had the chance to even solve, perhaps another way to uncover the mysteries of Minato's world) there's no particular reason to hold back.

"I need to find a few people," Akechi replies. When he holds his phone up with the list of names typed into the app, José does a small childish noise at the back of his throat in thought before he nods.

"We have a connection now, so I should help you! Want to sit in my cart?" José asks, grabbing two of Akechi's fingers with his own hand (a hand that felt burning hot through his gloves and didn't have the softness of flesh at all, Akechi notes) and lead him back to his colourful cart. Then with surprising strength, he pushes Akechi into the red seat, plonks a box onto his lap before jumping into the driver's side himself. There's _just_ enough space for another person next to José, and that's only because Akechi wasn't particularly bulky. His legs fold weirdly up to his chest and Akechi couldn't help but feel ridiculous being crammed in like this. He's like a grown adult playing a game of kiddy cart in a murder dungeon.

José doesn't particularly care about his discomfort as he revs his car up. "I noticed something weird on the fourth floor on the second layer, so let's go!" He says cheerfully, and he's off.

The darkness of the Mementos doesn't touch José's cart, Shadows wheeling around the moment his cart trundled by, swerving around turns at a speed that shouldn't be legal. José is chattering about something – something about depths of humanity, or perhaps how it was fascinating how Mementos was drawing from the Sea of Souls – as he ploughs straight down a dark tunnel that winds down, down, down, and screeches to a stop in front of the whirling portal that signalled a Shadow's room. The moment Akechi manages to wrangle himself out of the colourful death trap, José tilts his head, listening to something.

"Hmm, it seems like I have something to do, so I'll have to leave you here. By the way, all the other weird bits are all down from here! It was nice to meet you, mister! Good joooob!" He waves as he leaves, before with another honk of his horn he speeds off into the distance.

José had definitely stated that he suited the Star Arcana more than the Magician, and Akechi definitely felt like he just faced a whirlwind. It's quite similar to how he felt when he met with Hikaru. Were all Star affiliated people like that?

Akechi massaged the middle of his eyebrows, the implications of the past ten minutes threatening to overwhelm what was already going to be an unpleasantly long Mementos trip.

Whatever. He'd deal with all this later. First, Akechi glances down at his list, he has to extract whether Shido's secretary was truly loyal to his cause or not.

  


* * *

  


Akira stands drowsy at the train station, not having slept much since the dream yesterday. It was a blessing in disguise that Akechi had sent his notes to him so that he'd already studied all the subjects for today's exams. Instead of resting and preparing, all he'd really done last night was tally what he knew, tapping away at his phone until Morgana woke up and gave him a disappointed look that he didnt get a _'full night's sleep is important, Joker! You have exams, you know!'_.

First was the fact that the dreams didn't come from each and every one of his Confidants. Takemi, Yoshida, Sojiro – he had met all of them and didn't have any future premonitions of them.

Second, the dreams all seemed interlinked – of himself when everyone's in college or that equivalent. Perhaps five to six years in the future, give or take.

Third, is that the dreams didn't necessarily have to come from an established Confidant. Goro's one had sparked long before all the events in Tokyo and its supernatural things. He still remembers the details of it, the pots of flowers and Morgana telling him to go. Ann seems perfect for the pink dahlias, Ryuji for bold sunflowers.

Makoto Niijima, the student council president, seemed to be his friend in the future. She was strong and bold, striking and unbending, a beautiful iris.

He thinks he has a hunch though, on what sparks these dreams.

Perhaps it's… the potential to have a Persona.

Ryuji, Ann. Makoto, and the reference to the Thieves in her conversation. She was obviously going to join them later even if it seems unlikely now. Maruki was a counsellor, a researcher concerned with psychology of some kind as rumours had it.

And Goro, sparking a dream even back in 2014.

Morgana's words ring in his mind.

Two years, approximately give and take. GA. Mementos, unlocking, the coma incidents becoming the basis of Goro's career and uncovering corruption and scandal. His Justice Confidant, sitting when they first met and explaining that he wished to sort order from chaos, voice carefully shuttered and so different to the victory-filled laugh from only yesterday. Goro dead in 2016, _this year_ , even though he wasn't sick or debilitated in any way.

The Goro Akechi he knew would never rob someone else of their lives without reason. A coma may preserve life, but it was also the loss of years of living. If Goro Akechi was GA, and GA was an active Persona user giving select people mental shutdowns, that meant GA must have a reason enough to over-ride the justice that Goro respected so much.

A reason that may be _dangerous_ , Akira thought with a frown. A reason that would lead to his death.

_'A friend I couldn't save.'_

How? How had he failed to protect him? Did Goro keep whatever secret he had to the end? Did he die without ever reaching out to Akira, because their friendship in that future wasn't strong enough? Could it be that was what Igor and those twins had been talking about when they talked about the importance of bonds?

There, Akira thought with narrowed eyes, were too many unanswered questions.

Morgana yawns in his ear, popping his head out of the bag.

"Hey, what're you thinking so hard about? Your upcoming exams?"

Akira stares forward, past the small crowd of strangers and students waiting for the train alongside him and takes one hand out of his pocket to adjust his bag.

"Something like that," Akira replies, voice half lost in the din of the crowd around them just as Ryuji slumped over, yawning. Soon he's drooped in front of him, moaning about lost sleep and video games and Akira lets a little of the tension of the night go. Ann joins them a minute later, though their conversation breaks into concern when she shares her worries about a stalker.

At Aoyama-Itchome they confront a tall boy, well dressed and presented. He passionately asks Ann to be his next model, and Akira gets a feeling that he'd get an answer to his hypothesis soon. The boy in front of him is distinctive in his own way, the meeting so odd that it has Akira on alert from all the other slightly distinctive people in his life that eventually became a Confidant.

Yusuke Kitagawa, a student of Ichiryusai Madarame, a name that was already on their radar for not being who he seems.

After he brewed a cup of coffee for Sojiro that evening, Akira retired to bed prepared for a dream.

And dream he did.

  


* * *

  


Akira stands in front of a shrine, the smell of burnt incense in the air light under his nose. There is absolutely no-one around except for distant echoing clatters from an open door behind them. His body is attentive, however, to the only other person next to him. When he turns, he's unsurprised to see an elegant profile standing straight and still, head bowed.

"Sometimes I wonder," Yusuke begins, his tone is strangely conversational for one standing in a suit holding a single, perfect lily. "Do I have the right to dislike Madarame? When someone is such an integral part of who you are, to define your every thought, your every perception. To know that this someone has contributed so much to who you are, and then hate them for it?"

Madarame's assets had been seized as proceeds of crime long ago. Some of it had arrived back to Yusuke, but most had been auctioned off and sold, or given as reparations. This had left Yusuke at least some funds after all the legal proceedings had finished, but he'd never touched it even when he was at his lowest.

 _"I do not need dirty money in my life,"_ Yusuke had once spat, and that had been all Yusuke ever did with it until the day he had received a phone call from authorities.

Ichiryusai Madarame had succumbed to bad health and old age in prison. After catching a particularly bad bout of pneumonia last year, he never recovered fully. After the passing of another winter, he caught a cold and died aged sixty-two.

It was then that Yusuke finally touched the dirty money he despised and arranged a funeral. An honourable one, with the most official proceedings Yusuke could arrange. He bought a place for a decent tombstone; he arranged the proceedings for the praying and ceremonies. Yusuke knelt in the place of where family members would have knelt and greeted the sparse few who visited with perfect formality.

The Thieves had collectively taken a break and sat with him. Makoto had come in even with a burgeoning exam week, giving Yusuke a tight hug that he reciprocated with fingers clenched tight into her jacket. Haru came bearing food with a sympathetic smile, Futaba had squirrelled herself inside before promptly disappearing to arrange a network connection so that Ann could say a few private words with Yusuke. Ryuji had given Yusuke an intense quiet talk, before getting distracted when he heard someone badmouthing Madarame and got up to threaten them out the hall.

Akira had come with the flowers, festooning the place with as many as he could've grabbed from the friends he had with florists. He bought blooms a few days old as well as delicate new ones, large or small and all vibrant, some from his personal collection that he knew Yusuke admired, and Yusuke...

Yusuke never cried. He didn't even look overwhelmed as he often did when the Thieves collectively did something for him, like for his birthday or when he graduated. He thanked them all seriously before retreating back into himself, looking at something all the rest couldn't see. One by one the Thieves left, entrusting Yusuke to Akira with concerned nods and claps to his back.

And as expected, Yusuke only broke his silence when it was only him and Akira left.

"I cannot imagine who I would be without his influence," Yusuke continues, holding the lone lily up to the artificial white lights that had switched on when it had started to get dark. "My childhood and adolescence was, in majority, a happy one, though I've only realised its toxicity with retrospection. The rest of my adolescence and adulthood has been a constant struggle to escape from his shadow. No introduction of my name is without some reference to my 'poor' treatment, my 'abuse' under his clutches, even when I'm presenting art that is unrelated to any of his themes or teachings. He's also harmed so many people. My mother, my fellow apprentices, myself. I cannot deny that I dislike him immensely, for what he is, for what he did. And yet, Akira."

Yusuke slowly places the lily on the closed lid of Madarame's coffin, slated to be cremated next morning.

"Yet, Akira," Yusuke's voice shakes with emotion even though his eyes still stay dry, "I still feel sadness when I know he is dead. I wonder why?"

Akira stays silent, standing next to Yusuke. In front of them above the coffin is a photo of Madarame. It's enshrined in white ribbon, a picture taken before his prison days had made his cheeks sallow, his eyes bagged and tired. He looks like the dignified teacher that Akira had met for the first time, all those years before, smiling gently at them through the car window.

"I wonder if this is the burden of family," Yusuke continues, "that this dichotomy of the human heart is brought to the fore so intensely. Is it that we truly cannot escape the influences of our childhood in life? That this... feeling of betrayal can only continue from the continued existence of respect and adoration?"

"You loved him, Yusuke," Akira says, and Yusuke laughs hollowly. There's something distinctly wrong with seeing Yusuke so neatly and formally dressed in a black three-piece with no canvas on his back, no random splatter of paint on a sleeve.

"Love… Perhaps. He is so deeply engraved in my bones. My way of speaking, how I clean my brushes, how I prepare my canvas. The way I engage other people or even my manners – all of that was taught by Madarame. It is not something I can ever leave behind. Because of your positive influence in my life, I have long resolved never to run away from my troubles whatever their identity, but I continually find that I have never successfully faced the shadow of Madarame in my heart. I cannot face a shadow that constantly changes form. Is he a spectre of an immoral monster, or the kindly man who sacrificed a week of sleep when I was sick? Am I his star pupil and his son, or his exploit to gain more power and prestige?"

The room is so silent the hum of the lights is near deafening.

"It is a question that I've resolved that resurfaces again and again, a month, a year, a thought later. If he loved me," Yusuke asks, fingers tracing the black varnish of the coffin, "why did he do the things that he did?"

A month ago, Yusuke painted a series for a competition with the theme 'childhood'. Not only was it for Ueno's large art gallery, one of his sponsors expressed his interest in Yusuke's take on such a theme. It didn't take long for Yusuke to fall into his usual creative frenzy, locking himself into his studio for a month straight with only visits from his friends and manager keeping him alive.

Akira, as always, had been the first invited to see his series when he was done. As always, it took his breath away, though this time it had been from the visceral _honesty_ of it. With Yusuke's flair for abstractionism, half the series had been beautiful utopic scenes of beauty, angelic scenes of childhood innocence in both the every day and the fantastical.

The other half had been a mirror in reversal – every scene twisted to depict callousness, every stroke giving life to ignorance and selfishness. Angelic heavens became mundanity, utopias mere exaggerated delusion. The series was supposed to be displayed in pairs facing each other along a corridor, the viewer standing between them to reflect on the nature of their own childhood.

Yusuke named the entire series 'Love' and won the whole competition to great acclaim.

"I grow and grow," Yusuke finally says, pained, "but it seems one cannot change their roots so easily."

"You should cry if you need to," Akira says, gentle. But Yusuke shakes his head.

"This sadness is not one that requires tears," Yusuke replies, finally turning around and walking out of the hall as Akira trails behind. "Perhaps this grief I'm feeling isn't for Madarame at all. Perhaps this grief is… for myself," Yusuke says, his tone distant like he was a million miles away, "that now I will never be able to find an answer for my questions. That he will haunt me and my life, though he does not deserve it."

The next day Yusuke receives the cremated urn and he places the ashes into the grave he prepared prior. Akira stands over Yusuke with his umbrella against the splatter of warm spring rain as the other man crouches, for a long time, in front of the name engraved there.

It's not a beautiful day. The mud is sludge, the grasses drowned, sky heavy with deep grey clouds. Akira waits as long as he needs to, waits until there's a determination on Yusuke's face when he finally straightens and turns to Akira.

"Thank you as always for being there for me, Akira. Your presence will always be a balm to my soul," he says gratefully. Akira's just relieved that Yusuke recovered enough to use his dramatic turns of phrase again.

"That's me, the best moisturiser," Akira agrees as they carefully navigate the slushy mud under their feet.

"Moisturiser is indeed a wonder," Yusuke replies, lighting up. "I am constantly amazed by how my skin does not flake after Ann recommended an especially effective brand…"

Akira accompanies his eccentric friend back to the city proper, all the way back down as they chatter over the various uses of natural oils, and the debate whether Yusuke should ever aim to make an art piece that held smell as a component. That night Akira makes an extra-large bowl of curry. It's spiced just as Yusuke likes it, and he feels bittersweet happiness that he manages to be next to him when a few tears slip out of Yusuke after he looks at Sayuri on LeBlanc's wall, for they would have otherwise fallen silent and unseen.

When Akira wakes, he takes out his phone and stares that string of messages that Ryuji and Ann had sent through, slowly breathing through the emotions the dream had sparked alongside the sound of rain battering the dusty windows above him.

His grip on his phone may be a little harder than normal, and it takes a few more moments before he manages to unclench his fingers, letting his phone fall back onto his pillow with a soft flump. Morgana is there, a ball of warm fur and small dreaming whines of fatty tuna, and he frowns at his ceiling. 

Seems like they had their new target.

  


* * *

  


When the Thieves and Akechi had infiltrated Sae's Palace, some of their members had wondered out loud how her heart had twisted so much that it had created a Palace in the first place. Sae was a career woman, perfectly prepared to face misogyny and succeed despite her stresses. Although she was a relatively young Public Prosecutor, she had also been with her job for enough years and seen enough cases that she was trusted with issues beyond what her experience would usually allow, such as upper-crust governmental scandals and the Phantom Thieves, an international phenomenon.

If you asked Makoto, she would blame herself. She would cite their family affairs and her sister's forced independence from a young age leading her onto such an extreme perspective on life.

If you asked Akechi, he wouldn't _deny_ that having a dependent, a father who died in the line of duty, and a stressful job could have led to Sae's Palace.

Then he would point out the details of Sae's Palace itself. The source of Sae's distortion was her father's old police notebook, a symbol of disillusioned justice. The casino was a perversion of the courthouse, not Makoto's apartment, plastered with slogans that stated success had to be achieved at all costs.

Then he would probably smile and point out that primarily, it was her workplace that fuelled Sae's hyper-competitiveness, correct?

A workplace defined by the SIU Director.

If it was to be summarised, Sae had merely been the most convenient piece they had. Not only did she already have a pre-existing bond with Akechi, a prime agent of Shido, she was also young and relatively unaffiliated, straight-forward in her dealings, and a woman. Translated into Shido's terms, it means she was a person easily manipulated and easily discarded.

The Phantom Thieves hadn't been the only case Sae was assigned during the year – that would have been an inefficient use of resources. The SIU Director had given her a series of different cases designed to make her case record look impressive enough to be handed the Phantom Thieves, but also politically loaded enough to make her lots of enemies. Many of those cases had a lot of drudge work and minutiae that had been left uninvestigated when handed to Sae, and there had been a few cases that the Director had rigged to fail to further justify Sae's demotion when the time came to make her their scapegoat. They dangled her promotion in front of her while harshly criticising her any time she made any mistake.

The Palace was just a logical result of that. It had even been a pleasant surprise when he searched up Sae's name around the time of Okumura's death and found a hit. The courthouse had been a perfect location to lure the Phantom Thieves. Not only was Sae someone with a personal stake for one of the members, but she was also related to the investigation and could be a source of external pressure to force the Thieves to act.

Now that Akechi wasn't on Shido's side however, Sae's Palace was wholly unnecessary. He only really had two requirements of the Thieves:

One, be internationally famous so that the depths of Mementos would unlock.

Second, be strong enough to defeat Shido and whatever God lay beyond.

He could even use that last month as a decoy – while pretending to trap the Phantom Thieves they could advance into Shido's Palace instead, perhaps. Or maybe he could lead them through Mementos and train them until they were stronger than ever before just in case Akira succumbed to the God. With the combined might of the Thieves and Akechi, they can surely bring Akira to his senses, by force if necessary.

Additionally, Akechi was now officially part of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Special Investigation Units. This time he had worked much less with Sae. He hadn't especially sought her out much either after the first meeting, wondering in the back of his mind whether the SIU Director would fail to target her if she wasn't one of Akechi's close acquaintances.

That was a misconception on his part. He had obviously overestimated his importance in this matter.

When he arrives at the offices for his unit, Sae Niijima sits in the chair that once housed Ooka-san, a well-respected fifty-year-old Public Prosecutor who had been on and off with their case since the beginning. She's chatting to another detective with quick professional tones, case files in hand. Opening the door to step inside, Sae smiles when she recognises him, standing to greet him properly.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Akechi-kun," Sae nods professionally. "Ooka-san recently had a family affair and has requested to take leave. I will be the Public Prosecutor replacing him. I hope we can work well together in the future."

After a brief pause, Akechi lets a familiar smile overtake his face. Youthful, pleasantly surprised. The other detectives have already settled back into their own work, the team not particularly close even after a few months of working together. Two out of three were Shido's people, so it wasn't as if establishing relationships was important.

"Sae-san, it would be an honour to officially work with you in the future," he replies, shaking hands.

"I was just catching up on the case with Sasaki-san," Sae continues professionally, tapping the files in her arms. "I also have everyone else's impressions on the case at hand. The only one left is you, Akechi-kun. Would you oblige me with some of your opinions as well?"

"If you don't mind accompanying me out to a trip to the hospital, Sae-san," Akechi replies apologetically. "I was only returning to the office to confirm my attendance and retrieve a few things."

He quickly reaches his own desk and retrieves the past transcripts and interview questions they've done for other victims of Kamoshida, and Sae retrieves her own bag in reply. 

"Is this for the most recent coma incident?" Sae asks as they head out together, and Akechi shakes his head.

"No. I've been assigned to assist an additional investigation on the side. Since I bumped into your sister last time I visited the school, I guess you're familiar with Suguru Kamoshida's abuse case with Shujin Academy?"

Sae looks taken aback as they near the elevators.

"You've met Makoto?" She asks with surprise, and Akechi laughs politely.

"Yes, she reminded me of you quite a bit. She's an admirable student council president."

Sae takes a second to process the sudden intrusion of her private life into her professional, before nodding in agreement. "My sister is diligent and hard-working, a third-year student just like you. Although she isn't doing as many extracurriculars as you are, she's a diligent child." Sae's voice is clipped, as professional as always as she continues on the topic of Makoto. "All I can hope is that she continues on track to get into a good university and attain success in the future."

"And what does she want to do in the future?" Akechi asks in the guise of furthering polite conversation. He feigns as if he's watching the elevator rise to their position instead of observing Sae from the corner of his eye.

"She…" Sae pauses, before she quickly recovers. "I don't actually know," she admits with a frown. "As you undoubtedly understand, gaining entry to a good university is the first step towards any decent career path, Akechi-kun. Anything else can come later."

"Of course, Sae-san," Akechi replies with a smile, knowing Sae had never been one to keep an unanswered question a mystery. This was good enough for the time being. "Now, I believe you wished to know my opinion on the coma cases?"

They settle on a familiar back and forth as they walk out of Headquarters as Akechi shares more information and thoughts than he ever did with Ooka, Sae listening attentively and adding interjecting questions of her own.

"Thank you for your input, Akechi-kun," Sae says as their conversation finishes right before the station entrance. "Your insights are as precise as always. I will take them into consideration as I read over the interview transcripts from the past year."

"There's quite a lot, Sae-san," Akechi laughs ruefully. "You may be in for quite a rough week if you insist on reading through them all."

"I'll be fine," Sae says confidently, glancing down at her watch. "Now, I believe you have somewhere to be so I'll stop delaying you any further. Good day, Akechi-kun."

Sae walks back the way they came without another word, and Akechi allows his eyes to linger on her as she winds her way back down the wide roads of Nagatacho.

He knew Sae's trajectory more than most. He even remembered which cases they had rigged against her favour, and some of her major cases and why she had chosen them. Although Sae's sense of justice was already slightly warped, she was still mostly upright.

On the train, he sketches the original plan made by the SIU Director and thinks about the current influence he has with him. If he planned in advance for certain cases and tweaked the Director's approach…

Hmm. Isn't it surprisingly doable?

Perhaps he could avoid the Palace creation altogether.

**Moon Rank 2 – Sae Niijima**

  


* * *

  


The hospital Shiho Suzui had been brought into was the same one that Takaki had been driven to a year ago, and it was with familiar steps that he headed towards the trauma ward. Having woken up from a coma alongside heavy injuries along her spine that impacted mobility, she had been advised to stay as an in-patient for a while longer while doctors kept an eye on her condition.

The nurse that greets him has a slight blush when she recognises him.

"Oh, yes! That's right, the detectives a week ago did promise that they'll send someone else to interview Suzui-san if she was uncomfortable meeting adult men!"

"Yes," Akechi smiles, a charming one with a dash of seriousness. "May I ask if Suzui-san is available for an interview?"

"Of course, let me check with her right now," the nurse bows, heading into the room behind her. After a few moments, she comes back with a nod. "Suzui-san says it's alright now, please head in. Visiting hours will end soon, so I advise you to try and get as much done as you can as soon as possible," the nurse says, and Akechi thanks her politely before heading in himself.

"Hello, Suzui-san," Akechi greets as he settles himself in a visitor's chair dragged close to Shiho's bed. There's a bunch of flowers on a side shelf and a stack of girl's fashion magazines next to it. Ann Takamaki has made her mark in the room, from the casual cushion on the chair to a few pen drawings and comments on the magazine covers, and he turns his gaze to Shiho Suzui. "My name is Goro Akechi, a detective intern for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Special Investigation Unit. I was wondering if you would be amenable for a few questions?"

The prime cause and motivation for Ann Takamaki's involvement with the Phantom Thieves is a surprisingly normal-looking girl with a fading tan, smile sweet when she replies to him.

"You're just as good looking as the magazines," Shiho replies, surprisingly candid. "Me and Ann had wondered if you were photoshopped or not, but you really weren't."

Akechi blinks before recovering. "Should I take that as a compliment?" He asks, and Shiho huffs out a small breath of laughter.

"No, it was just an observation, Akechi-kun. Please, I know you're on official business. I'm guessing it would be best to get it over and done with," she grimaces, and Akechi knows his role here. He places a sympathetic look on his face, carefully avoiding any pity.

"My apologies in advance if anything upsets you. Know that you can refrain from answering any of my questions, though the more honesty you have now the better the case we can gather against Kamoshida so that he can remain for a longer term in prison. Your victim statement is exceptionally vital, and I may have to visit a few more times to clarify details."

"I understand," Shiho nods. "It's fine. Go ahead."

Akechi first goes through official protocols – confidentiality, explaining the process they were going to go through, before diving in. The description of the extent of Suguru Kamoshida's abuse is unsurprisingly horrifying, as Shiho delves into details of how he'd pretended to be a great teacher while getting off on the secrecy as he committed sadistic acts of torture on male members of the team and placed many of their female members in more and more compromising positions.

"He liked to target me because I used to talk back at him," Shiho says slowly to her fingers, twining them together before letting them go again. "Then he knew that Ann was my best friend, and he… fixated on her. He had a picture of her from a magazine shoot on his phone, and he'd take it out in front of me and tell me what he'd do to her if I didn't listen, and I'd never been so scared…"

They were interrupted when the nurse knocked softly on the door, sticking her head in.

"Visiting hours are over," she says, nodding towards the sunset outside washing the room in tones of oranges and pinks before leaving, and Shiho looks at the window in surprise.

"Wow, I didn't realise time passed so quickly," Shiho says, before turning her smile on him. "Talking to you is strangely relaxing, Akechi-kun. I thought that revisiting those memories would be much worse than this. Maybe it's your princely aura?"

"I'm not actually a prince, Suzui-san," Akechi replies, dry, and Shiho laughs.

"We're only halfway through your questions, right? I have physical therapy in the afternoon for the next few days, so it might not be the best time for an interview."

"Next week then?" Akechi asks, and Shiho nods.

"If that's alright, I'd prefer you to continue the interview too." Shiho's gaze is quite straight forward as she speaks. "Is there a way to make you my prime mode of contact with the police? Every other detective or police member has made me uncomfortable so far, and I don't think that's efficient for any of us if I just get stuck in my head when I see them."

The request sparks an internal grimace because that's another few slots of time gone if he accepts.

But still, this is probably a prime place to meet Ann Takamaki, so he doesn't miss a beat when he replies.

"Of course you can, Suzui-san. I'll update my fellow detectives of your request soon."

Shiho's smile grows a little wider.

"Thank you for listening to my selfish request, Akechi-kun. You don't understand how much that's a relief."

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Temperance** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Another one, Akechi thinks in the back of his mind. Shiho Suzui stays leaning on her bed in a sitting position, still smiling at him in gratitude, and Akechi can virtually see any semblance of free time flying away from him.

"It is perfectly fine, Suzui-san," Akechi bows before he picks up all his note-taking things and the recorder, placing it all back into his attaché case and leaving. "See you next week."

  


* * *

  


[Unknown: Hello, Goro Akechi-san. This is Yusuke Kitagawa. We met before at Shibuya Station and you gave me your business card. May I ask you a question?]

[Goro Akechi: Kitagawa-kun, it's a pleasant surprise. Feel free to ask any questions you wish.]

[Yusuke: May I ask if there is a way for me to legally leave Sensei's guardianship as a minor without bringing any negative repercussions on him?]

[Goro Akechi: Do you wish to leave him, Kitagawa-kun?]

[Yusuke: Only if it doesn't bring harm to Sensei or his reputation.]

[Goro Akechi: As a minor it is difficult. If there are no reasons for you to leave his guardianship, then it is understandably hard to argue for emancipation, separation, or a transfer of your guardianship to another. It would be much easier once you officially reach adulthood at the age of twenty.]

[Goro Akechi: As you can see, the easiest way to begin building a case for you to leave him is to highlight any negative issues arising from Madarame's care that will impact your growth.]

[Yusuke: I see. Thank you very much for your time. I have no further questions.]

[Goro Akechi: My offer still stands, Kitagawa-kun.]

There's a [Read] icon next to his last message, but Yusuke doesn't reply.

It is nearly time for Madarame's exhibition anyway, some of Shido's goons excited in their investment in the shopping district in Shibuya, anticipating an influx of people. It seems like Akira will have to do the rest, Akechi thinks as he puts down his phone.

Speaking of which, it has been a few days since Akira had texted him, which is an unusual amount of time for silence. The torrential rain that poured down in violent sheets were hardly the most beautiful picture to take, but he picks up his phone and takes a photo of the blurry streets of Tokyo anyway, through the windows of his school. It's lunchtime, the background chatter of students a mundane reprieve, and it doesn't take long for Akira to respond with a photograph of his own. It's Morgana, blue eye pressed close to the camera with the only background the red-black checkers of Shujin's uniform pants.

A few seconds later, there's an actual text message.

[Akira: Hey, do you trust me?]

[Goro Akechi: That's an interesting question to start the day with, Akira-kun. What brought this on?]

[Akira: Answer me first.]

There's a bit of an ironic smile on his face when he types his answer to the golden boy of trust himself.

[Goro Akechi: I trust you with my life, Akira-kun.]

[Akira: I see.]

[Akira: You know I'll listen to anything you say right?]

[Goro Akechi: You're being surprisingly serious today. Is everything alright?]

[Akira: Yes.]

[Akira: I'm going to get an answer to a question I've been thinking on for the past few days soon.]

[Akira: I'll tell you the results, maybe.]

[Akira: You know I trust you too, right?]

[Akira: No matter what.]

[Goro Akechi: You're starting to worry me, Akira-kun. This whole message chain is a strangely serious departure from your usual, more light-hearted tone.]

[Akira: No need to worry about me. When are you next free?]

[Goro Akechi: I'll have to get back to you on that. My schedule has been quite hectic lately.]

[Akira: Pop by LeBlanc some time. I'll make a cup of coffee for you on the house.]

The nostalgic scene of LeBlanc with Akira actually there, this time? He had many fond memories of Akira in his apron, stirring curry until his glasses steamed up. The chess set is probably folded near the counter still, which could be a start of a pleasant evening if he also brought his notes or books to prolong his stay. Akira had been fond of sitting across from him, reading deep technical books or historical novels.

There was no need for nostalgia now, Akechi thinks with a small pleasant realisation.

[Goro Akechi: Sure, I'll try my best to make some time.]

  


* * *

  


Akira watches with a sense that things were clicking into place as Yusuke stands up to the spectre of Madarame in front of him. Blue flames burst from his awakening, the wave of force blasting all the Shadows standing near away from them.

"The children who adored you as 'father', the prospects of your pupils… How many did you trample upon?" Yusuke asks with his voice rising in anger with each word, Goemon floating behind him in accusation. "How many dreams did you exchange for riches!? No matter what it takes… I will bring you to justice!"

Akira has long been ready, standing in Madarame's twisted gallery filled with the portraits of his former pupils proudly on display.

"You got this?" He asks Yusuke Kitagawa, noting the fox mask and determined anger in his expression. Only moments ago Yusuke had been a bowed young man shocked as he stared at his own portrait in the gallery, proof that his beloved Sensei viewed him as just another tool just like the rest.

"I am ready!" Yusuke replies strongly. Akira can't help the smirk that rises to his face when they leap backwards to face Madarame's summoned guards, another team mate slotting seamlessly into place. They take down the enemies relatively quickly with the help of Yusuke's affinity for ice, and the embittered blacksmith took only a few more turns before they were facing Madarame again. His ridiculous Shogun's knot and painted lips mock Yusuke a few more turns, threatening his future and art that only make the disbelief and rage on Yusuke's face deepen. It's distasteful in every sense of the word, and Akira briefly wonders what would happen if he took his gun and shot him, right there, right now, before Madarame fully escapes their range.

But then Yusuke collapses, and they all lead him back to the entrance lobby.

His future friend sits exhausted on the seats, drained of all the fight that he just had.

"That's why I so vehemently denied you," he spoke to Akira, morose. "I was simply running from the truth. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Akira replies quietly, gaze steady as he catalogued Yusuke's exhausted body posture, the introspective voice. He's glad to free Yusuke from Madarame. As a bonus, they even gained a new Phantom Thieves member.

Furthermore, it seems like his previous hypothesis was most likely correct.

Akira sighs in his head, even as he listens to Ryuji trying to motivate Yusuke out of his slump with his usual, casual flair, Ann joining in cheerfully. A mild headache was starting to form in his own head as he thinks of _Goro_.

How did you go about approaching a topic like this?

 _'Heey, comatiser'_ sounded awful.

And anyway, there was still a chance that he was wrong about all of this…

"Oh crap, we need to scram!" Morgana exclaims, and the rest of the next few minutes drove all other thoughts away as the three of them dragged a wilting, bewildered Yusuke up the rope onto the rooftop, the garden, down the truck and finally out the Palace back to the safer crowds of Shibuya.

  


* * *

  


"Hmm, hmm! These guys really aren't careful at all, are they?" Futaba says to herself as she quickly taps a string of code into her computer, carefully stopping any of the Metaverse anomalies of the night reaching Narukami or Kirijo.

Ooh, they'd be so mad… Futaba cringes a little with a prickle of guilty conscience, before carefully washing it away with justification. If they knew they'd stop her again from doing anything, and that just wasn't what she wanted!

Anyway, GA contact suspect hung out with two of that gross PE teacher's victims, who had heel-face-turned in a classic display of cognitive psience in action, if she must say so herself. Now there had been continuous waves of Metaverse activity in a rich district near Shibuya, some famous artist's house with bad rumours on the Phan-site… and bam!

Futaba now watches from grainy security feed from the diner, as GA contact suspect, Kamoshida victim one and two, and sketchy artist's apprentice all ate together like they were best buds!

If this wasn't a sign, then nothing was.

Though, Futaba winces at the sheer crowds populating the diner. And Shibuya, while she's at it. LeBlanc was fine, but Sojiro came home early nowadays because of the probation guy so sneaking out was going to be difficult.

And didn't that Kurusu guy get arrested for assault? Though he seems pretty normal whenever Futaba bothered to watch the security feeds. He talked to his cat a lot, which was a sign that he was a great guy according to Bakakami, but still, he looked pretty tall and loomy in the camera, huh…

Sojiro returns home to see Futaba crouched down next to the umbrella stand banging her head on the wall near the shoe area, and he pauses in the middle of the doorway. She's not usually out of her room nowadays, but, uh.

"What are you doing, Futaba?" Sojiro asks in concern, taking his shoes off slowly and approaching her like a rabid baby animal, approaching slowly enough that Futaba doesn't register him until he's hauled her up by the arms. "What's with the head-banging? Is your forehead alright?"

"Sojiroooo," Futaba says miserably, and Sojiro's face wrinkles in immediate worry.

"Huh? Futaba, what's wrong?"

"Sojirooo, why am I such a coward? If I was mom, I would've already marched on right over and slapped the answer right out of his mouth!" Futaba continues in a grumble.

…Boy troubles again?

"Now, I'm not usually a supporter of physical violence, but if a boy is lying to you Futaba, slapping him is a great idea," Sojiro says seriously, and Futaba blinks.

"Huh? What're you talking about, Sojiro?"

Sojiro sighs. Still keeping it a secret, huh?

"It's fine, I'll wait until you're ready. What do you want in your curry tonight, Futaba?" Sojiro asks, knowing that the mention of curry would brighten her right up.

"Chicken!" Futaba exclaims, immediately distracted. "I'm feeling like green curry today! Extra spicy!"

"Alright," Sojiro chuckles. "Coming right up."

  


* * *

  


In the nondescript karaoke bar in Shinjuku the next day, Akechi faces a Fusa that had already dropped all his masks, feet tapping the floor with his face already set in his permanent scowl.

"Fuck, it's so hard to pin you down for a talk. Aren't you a high-schooler? Shouldn't you be living the pinnacle of your life right now?"

Akechi sighs, taking a sip of the cup of coke that one of the waiters had brought them as a complimentary drink when they were led in.

"Fusa-san, if you know time is precious then we should get straight to business. What has been so urgent that you've been texting me so often?"

Fusa rolls his eyes. "What else? Of course it's Shido." He plants his feet on the ground, slightly tacky from someone's spilled drinks in the past, and looks at Akechi with seriousness. "There's something he's planning that I need your help with."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D_Maradine drew another beautiful Goro pic, this time of that scene a few chapters back where Cognitive Goro is challenging Goro and Goro is so beautiful. Thank you so much! It's lovely and brightened my day a whole lot hehe. Please check it out if you wish ->  
> https://mara-dine.tumblr.com/post/624553913750880256/can-you-truly-trust-the-cognition-of-a-liar-like
> 
> On the other hand, sorry for so much prep and talking. Futaba has social anxiety, but I believe in her! The moment she appears is the moment that everything kind of explodes and it's a moment I've pictured in my head for a long time so I'm kinda eeeeeeeee because, I don't know. Nervousness??? I feel like it's coming way quicker than I expected and there's still SCENES TO SQUEEZE IN  
> I promised Ryuji and Ann but ahaha... I was thwarted. Next time! Shido is finally using his brain, Yusuke AWAKENED, Akira is jumping tiers quickly, and Jose is finally here kicking off a story line I've wanted off the wall a long time and gosh. I hope there aren't too many things making things hard to understand. This chapter isn't very exciting, sorry hahaha
> 
> Last chapter confused a lot of you! I was really happy to see the people who got it right, haha. I was also kind of, um, amused at the confusion but also I felt bad for feeling amused, so if you don't wanna piece it together yourself and want express confirmation please read what's in the brackets. If you want to figure it out yourself, skip the brackets and have fun  
> (There are two world lines right now. Akira is dreaming of what is effectively Vanilla, where Akechi originally came from, but years later in canon. There are Reasons as to why Current World is like Royal right now that you can freely guess the cause).
> 
> Um, btw. I don't know (for sure) but I might not be able to post next week. I'll try my best but :<. Life. Thank you so much for your support and comments, I apologise for my typos, you guys give me life. I hope I see you next week!


	30. Chapter 30

"What do you know about the underworld?" Fusa asks, his voice serious.

"As much as any detective," Akechi replies seriously in return, settling down formally. "Personally, I'm unfamiliar. Atsuzawa-san dissuaded me from following him whenever he made formal contact with any of them or raided any of their affiliated establishments. I've read the files the police have on the marked yakuza organisations. I once asked him why he was one of their tolerators, but he returned and said there was really no right or wrong response towards the yakuza, as the underworld will always exist."

A love ballad warbles through the walls from another busy karaoke room, of a popular drama that recently aired. The woman sounds like she's sobbing as she sings it, to the loud laughter of her friends, but this time Fusa doesn't even take notice. He's fully on track, having settled any energy into intense focus as he quietly listens to Akechi.

"You specialise in white-collar and organisational corruption when you're off the coma cases, correct?" Fusa replies thoughtfully.

"But not yakuza affiliated ones," Akechi shakes his head. "That's another division of the police who specialise in the bōryokudan. The police division there is divided sometimes on what they categorise as acceptable yakuza activities and what they will change and label as bōryokudan, though mostly they deal with smuggling, prostitution, and other street crimes relating to their restaurants or talent agencies. Whatever start of my career I have made ever since Atsuzawa, I have mostly been looking at high-corporate and government affairs." 

Fusa's frown isn't explicitly negative, more thoughtful than anything as his fingers clench tight against one another.

"So you don't know much. That's… both good and bad news. Good," Fusa says as he squints up at him, his plain face belying the sharp intelligence behind his gaze, "because I didn't want to involve you too much if you didn't have experience anyway. Bad, because now I have one less backup."

Akechi watches as Fusa's agitation flares up, leg jogging, eyes narrow in thought.

Last time, when Shido had Akechi's full support, there would have been no way he would have missed a spy like Fusa. He would have been found out and discredited already, disappeared by Shido's means or Akechi's hand. The main issue is that he doesn't _remember_ a man like Fusa. Although he may have gotten through many, many victims, Akechi wouldn't have forgotten a distinctive name like _'Fusatsune Tsuchihashi'_.

But he does remember that Shido routinely roots out moles from his network, and that there had been two budding networks that had been dismantled with Akechi's assistance.

One of those networks had been orchestrated by a government agent.

Sometimes he looks at Fusa and wonders if he's looking at a dead man.

"Listen Akechi," Fusa says to him. "Before I go into anything else, I have to explain something. I'm not a good person like Zane, alright? I've always been the manipulative little shit on the side while Zane gets the flak, takes it, and then makes something better from it. He's the sort of person I aim to protect in this shitty world full of problems _we can actually fix if we cared,_ and as much as we disagree on a lot of things… There's a few that we do agree on. One, is that youth is fucking _wasted_ on the young, and they need to be protected from diving to their deaths because of developing-brain-stupidity."

Akechi's face casts extreme doubt over Fusa's wording, and Fusa rolls his eyes and continues.

"Second is that in jobs like ours – as police, as spies, as people who deal with the problems of society so it can continue chugging – we need _hard limits_. I've seen monsters and their dumbass indignity. Humans need values. We need scruples. We need to see evil in the eye and say, _I'm glad I will never become that because if I do I would have necked myself first."_

There's a hard glint in Fusa's eye, and Akechi knew that he was saying the abject truth. Fusa would, without hesitation, sacrifice his life for the sake of morality because he would never wish to become what he'd seen others be. That low coil of conviction in every single one of Fusa's words stamp deep impressions in the air between them as he continues.

"Sometimes fighting fire with fire is the most effective way, and we dip our hands in blood and dirt and everything a _good_ citizen will never think about. I teach disguise tricks to young people fresh from university, I send them out into the most revolting places, and I collect their information. I go collect their corpses when they fail. To each and every one of them, I tell them – the ugliness they see is because people have stopped fighting. Disgusting things only happen because someone's blinded themselves to what they can be. They've warped 'good' and 'bad' to their satisfaction, they've removed themselves from greater society." Fusa pauses, expression still as he examines his hands. "So I tell my agents they can't stop fighting. They can _never_ stop fighting when they see what humans can become. I will always be their tether to greater society, that I will give them something to fight that's not themselves whenever they need it."

Akechi's hands grip his knees tight. It's not as if he doesn't understand that justice, when served to no-one's satisfaction but his own, was just a self-serving, selfish lie. He'd always known heroes were only heroes when they received praise. Praise, hard fought and won.

"But sometimes no matter how you wish to, you have to pick your opponents," Fusa says a little bitterly, attracting his attention again. "The enemy is great when it's the literal _darkness of humanity_. That's why you have to set hard limits, kid. And mine just got _very_ tested."

There's a faint grinding sound as Fusa ground his teeth.

"What did Shido do?" Akechi asks, and Fusa blinks at him for a second before he just – he deflates. He visibly sucks in a breath and lets it go.

"It's what he _may_ do," Fusa admits. "Shido stamps a lot of things for approval and funding and gives away funding and approval in return. We all know that Japan does much less in the areas of trafficking than many other countries, even though we agents do what we can with the small leeways they give us. Especially large hubs of coerced sex work happen in Shinjuku, and Akiba has long been referred to as a hub for child trafficking. A lot of yakuza don't deal in that understandably, but some people don't have so many scruples."

They sat in this karaoke before, talking similar topics, and Akechi remembers a title.

"You mean the man you call 'Danna'?"

"And it's just a title still. I still have no name for you," Fusa scowls. "The Cleaner is only doing dirty work for Shido because of his money, and he has a lot of jobs from Shido. But he's thinking of preparing a proposal to Shido to solidify his position as a proper funder as well."

"What is it?" Akechi asks when Fusa's thoughts stretch for too long, and Fusa straightens up.

"He's going to propose for Shido's financial support in taking over a chain of bars in Akiba as a front for his child trafficking," Fusa says, eyes dark. "He's not going to explicitly say anything about the _other_ side of his business since Shido will definitely say no for his political career, but I know he's sending feelers out already to arrange things. The bar chain is geographically well-spread, as one bar is close to a highway, another a supply depot, warehouses, ports, that sort of thing amongst other factors. The moment he has money, he can set it up."

"Why do you need my help?" Akechi asks steadily, and Fusa nods, appreciative.

"The last two agents I sent from my team were directly killed. I'm not sure, but I may have an information leak somewhere. What I need is one thing. One, can you get information for me from this guy," and Fusa slides over a folded note. "He's a yakuza member, one of Danna's direct subordinates. Find out what they're doing, and how he identified my previous agents. I ask you because I trust you."

Akechi takes the note, unfolding it to read the name and memorising it before giving it back.

"It'll be done," Akechi promises. "What will you do?"

"I have a million other matters to attend to of course," Fusa sighs, massaging his eye sockets. "But this is one of my priorities, so as soon as you can would be great. This'll be my fight against Danna. He'll need a damn watertight proposal to get past Shido, and I'll use that time to get irrevocable proof of his plans."

Akechi sees an echo of the end of this man in front of him, a fighter brimming with anger wishing to change the world for the better.

The Cleaner, who had a proud invitation of Shido's trust the Thieves' stole moments before he died.

Akechi thinks of how he's never recognised Fusa's name, which meant someone else had taken down this key mole.

Shido, who had two agents but currently has three informants – Fusa, the Cleaner, and himself.

"Fusa-san, be careful," Akechi warns as he gets up, their karaoke machine beeping at them to tell them that the time they booked only had five minutes left. Fusa raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not always sorry enough that I have to ask a kid for help, you know," Fusa replies. "Which I'm sorry about. You can refuse me," Fusa says to him, still sitting. He's completely serious as he continues, voice suddenly full of intense sincerity. "I won't take advantage of you, and this is dangerous, I know. This is entirely your choice. If you don't do it, I'll find another way. Don't worry about me."

"I'll do it," Akechi replies with his own little flicker of a dream to fight evil, to beat the bad guys at their own game. "And it is entirely my choice, without coercion."

Fusa's lips tighten, frustration flaring in his eyes, before he swears under his breath.

"I'll make it worth your while," Fusa promises. "I'll argue that I should oversee all your supervision, alright? Just tell me the general gist of what you want to avoid, and I'll edit it for Shido's reports. The Cleaner is scared of your supernatural rumours enough he won't fight me on this one, since he knows crap about the Metaverse."

Akechi doesn't spare words to refuse.

"Thank you," Akechi replies, and the dim lights of the karaoke suddenly brighten up when a staff members cracks open the door. They're smiling with a tray of cleaning products in hand, and Fusa's face immediately melts into benign happiness.

"That was a good session, wasn't it?" He laughs, slapping Akechi's back when he picks up his bags and takes large strides past him. "Man, some karaoke after work is the best."

"You should be careful with your health, Tobe-san," Akechi says pleasantly, passing the staff member himself.

"Don't you worry about me, kid," Fusa says, smile unfaltering, eyes flashing a glint of hardness, of indomitable stubbornness. "I'm a survivor, and I always will be."

They leave the establishment with no further words, the hubbub of a Shinjuku preparing to greet the evening livening up the atmosphere. Akechi walks slower than usual as he realigns himself from the talk he just had with the general chatter of the world. Promoters push flyers at him, a gaggle of girls talk excitedly of a film they just watched. Rows and rows of smiling faces from host-clubs greet him from windows, and he thinks of a world where heroes actually did lurk in the dark, where people did see evil and fought it to their last breath. He thinks of that childish world where resentful flames like his were all flames like Fusa's instead.

It's not impossible, Akechi thinks, perhaps. To step aside every time Shido wishes to drown him in his shadow, to reach, claw, look beyond at a world illuminated by people who wished to do good for good's sake.

Akechi looks down. Clenches his fist. He's saved Wakaba, Takaki, Atsuzawa. They had died or faced ruin.

He thinks, stepping through to the depths of Shinjuku station through the crowds of public, as he steps onto a train heading towards Kichijoji wishing for a few moments of silence and contemplation as he planned his schedule.

He will save Fusatsune Tsuchihashi too.

**Hanged Man Rank 4 – Fusatsune Tsuchihashi**

  


* * *

  


It's entirely a surprise when he's walking down the streets late that night after a pleasant night at the jazz bar to see a familiar blonde head of hair skulking around the corner of the incense shop, a familiar frown on his face with his shoulders held tense and nervous. When Akechi nears him, he overhears him muttering to himself.

"Oh _maan_ , this place is way more crowded than I thought," Ryuji Sakamoto mumbles to himself, eyes on the many adults drinking underneath plastic covers of some night-time izakaya. The smell of alcohol and food waft freely through the air, the alleyways dark and cold except for the puddles of light and chatter from in front. Ryuji himself doesn't seem inclined to push through the crowd, indulge in food, or even take in the sights. "Ma will start panickin' if I don't go home soon. Where _is_ that bastard?"

Akechi's footsteps are quiet by habit, and Ryuji doesn't seem to notice that he's standing right next to him. Adjusting his tie, he places a pleasant smile on his face before addressing him.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Ryuji-kun."

Akechi hides the flicker of amusement at the sheer panic in Ryuji's voice when he whirls around.

"Whoa! Who?!" Ryuji shouts, eyes wide as his eyes adjust from the bright izakaya lights to the shadows they both stood in. It takes a moment for him to remember Akechi's profile because it's only after a tense few seconds does Ryuji slump against the wall. "Oh man," he grumbles. "Don't scare me like that. Akechi, right?"

Akechi hums in reply, making a pointed glance at the bustling izakayas and where Ryuji stands, a tad too close to the delinquents and smokers who liked to lurk the darker corners, mostly out of sight and out of mind.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Ryuji-kun," Akechi replies. "But what are you doing here? I approached because I suspected some suspicious activity, but I don't believe you're that type of personality."

Ryuji takes a moment to look around where he'd holed himself – the shifty-eyed smokers crouching just across the way (nothing illegal by the smell of it, though their gazes were unwelcoming at best), the dirty alleyway, and groans. "Aw crap, yeah, this does look suspicious."

"You're lucky another patrolling officer didn't find you, Ryuji-kun," Akechi says, stepping closer to the bustle of the izakayas. Ryuji seems to give up on whatever pretence he had before, following him with a rueful sigh.

"Yeah, I get it. Ma has heard enough of me gettin' pulled over by police. Some gossip told her… Ugh, forget it. I can't believe tonight's a dead end again!"

Ryuji scrubs his hair in frustration, kicking a nearby post when they pass, and Akechi pauses.

"Would you mind telling me what you're searching for, Ryuji-kun?" Akechi asks, shifting his case from one hand to the other and opening up his body posture to something friendlier, more sincere. A loud man is demanding more sake from a concerned izakaya owner by the side, but there's a quiet spot also in a short alleyway that they now stand still in. "Any friend of Akira-kun's is a friend of mine."

"Nah, it's fine," Ryuji shrugs, looking up and scanning the crowds of businessmen and women ready to drink their nights away. "It's just some personal stuff. Been tryin' to track somebody down because there's somethin' fishy going on with them, but I've had no luck so far."

Hmm?

Akechi tilts his head, taking a moment to think.

Ryuji Sakamoto is watching alcoholic establishments that ban entry to anyone without provision of adult identity, and he was perhaps the Phantom Thief with the least positive interactions with adult figures. He was certainly not the type to search for adults to befriend. Hobbies were gaming, running, and other activities typical to teenage boys if he's surmised correctly in their brief acquaintance together. The variety of adults in his life were scarce – either shopkeepers, impersonal, his mother, obviously not the problem, or his teachers.

"Are you trying to track down one of your teachers, Ryuji-kun?" Akechi asks, and Ryuji stiffens up before he turns amazed eyes at Akechi, who puts a hand to his chin, thinking out loud. "Is one of your teachers giving you trouble over Kamoshida…? No, Kamoshida is a very sensitive topic right now, and no teacher will dare use that against you currently. Any teacher complaints about your usual delinquency wouldn't inspire such actions like these. Is it perhaps an issue from a teacher that's targeting your friends?" Akechi frowns at where his thoughts are going. "Is Akira alright?"

There _had_ been that string of mildly concerning texts…

 _"Dude,"_ is all Ryuji says, wide-eyed. "Holy, you really are the Detective Prince, aren't cha? Nah, don't worry about Akira, after Kamoshida no-one's threatenin' to expel him." Ryuji hesitates, slouching a little deeper into his purple hoodie. "You… don't mind I'm tryin' to track a teacher?"

"I'm not on duty right now, Ryuji-kun," Akechi replies with a polished smile. "Besides, I have no reason to doubt you if you say you've noticed something strange about your teacher and wish to take matters into your own hands. Both you and Akira…" He pauses, before showing him a sympathetic grimace. "Your reputations will make it hard to depend on the school to respond, won't it?"

 _"Dude,"_ Ryuji repeats. "You're like, nearly all there and I didn't even explain anything."

"If I promise not to tell anyone, will you tell me what I'm missing?" Akechi lets the conversation become a little lighter, jokingly putting a finger to his lips.

"Well…" The other boy glances around the izakayas once more before sighing when he doesn't recognise the person he wanted to see. They join the flow of people heading to the main streets again. "I'll spill 'cause you've basically guessed everythin'. There's this teacher called Yamauchi. He was Kamoshida's lapdog, the type of guy who likes havin' power and shit."

Ryuji sighs again when they exit the area, disappointment heavy in his face as they both shiver from the unexpectedly fresh breeze whistling merrily through the open street. They come to rest in the middle of the walkway, mostly away from other pedestrians. "He's been messin' around with my old track team, and I'm pretty sure he's doin' something to them. I told myself that I've gotta find out 'cause I don't wanna shitty adult ruin their futures too, y'know?"

Akechi hums in understanding.

"You don't seem like you're achieving much success," Akechi points out. Ryuji groans.

"Yeah. I've heard he likes going out drinkin' and he's the type to like blabbin' about himself. I've been tryin' to find where he likes goin'. I've been tailin' him a few days and all I know is that he lives in Tsukishima and likes drinkin' here." He sticks a thumb over his shoulder, before shaking his head at the bustling izakayas behind him. "This doesn't work though. Akira promised to help me 'cause that bastard knows my face, but this is all adult-only. I don't wanna get him in trouble."

Ryuji's whole demeanour is frustrated as he brings himself to straighten up only to slump in an all-consuming sigh of _'this sucks',_ and Akechi tilts his head.

"Chasing leads is often quite difficult, but this isn't cause to give up. Do you know anything else about him?"

"Uh… I don't pay attention to my teachers much," Ryuji replies, squinting forward in thought. "Someone might've said somethin' like he likes teppanyaki? Monjayaki? Okonomiyaki?"

"Kichijoji is quite far away from Tsukishima," Akechi reasons, "and since he's a teacher he must prefer lighter drinks closer to his area on weekdays. Tsukishima has quite a few famous late-night monjayaki restaurants, speaking of monja. If you can confirm if your teacher likes monjayaki, it would be a step to finding an alternative to a minor sitting in an adult establishment."

"Hey, that's a great idea," Ryuji brightens up, face thoughtful as he sorts some thoughts in his head. "Thanks, Akechi! You're a really great guy!"

It's still mildly disturbing to see Ryuji Sakamoto's face emitting words like 'great guy' at him. Loyal may be Ryuji's most memorable trait for Akechi, his unwavering devotion to Akira, to the Phantom Thieves. It's not as if he doesn't understand that setting himself up as one of the Phantom Thieves' greatest dissenters would attract Ryuji's ire the first time around.

It's amazing what a changed set of preconceptions can create. From scowls and aggressive questioning, here Ryuji is all open laughter and appreciative grins.

"Anytime, Ryuji-kun," Akechi smiles.

"Heh," Ryuji brushes his nose with a finger, grin stretching wide. "I mentioned this to Akira before, but we should all hang out together one day! I bet it'll be great fun!"

They'll be 'hanging out' together in the future anyway, once Akechi finds the Thieves' strength acceptable enough to join them.

But it's an undeniably great chance for him to continue to smoothen pathways before his inevitable insertion of himself as the Phantom Thieves' public enemy, if only to place himself in a better place to arrange their international scandal. So all Akechi does is pull out his phone.

"I can't promise I'll be freely available," Akechi replies, "but that doesn't prevent us from exchanging numbers."

As their phones accept the number exchange, Akechi tucks it back into his pocket and gives Ryuji a professional smile.

"I'll pray that your investigation regarding your teacher will succeed, Ryuji-kun."

"Hah, thanks! I hope you do well in your whatever too, Akechi!" Ryuji laughs, voice loud enough to echo down the streets. "I'll tell you how it goes! If I need help, can I ask you for some help again? I promised Akira I'd do all this myself, but it's been surprisingly hard, heh."

"I don't mind," Akechi agrees with an agreeable smile as they near the train station.

The world freezes.

_I am thou, thou art I._

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Chariot** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

"Bye, Akechi," Ryuji waves at Shibuya station, and Akechi feels slightly bemused as he runs a hand through his hair.

Akira, Ryuji, Futaba and… Haru.

By this point in time in the past he had never even met Akira. Now he had burgeoning Arcana with more than half of the Thieves alongside a bustling social calendar and truly, he can't help the small mad chuckle that slips past his lips as he heads past the ticket barriers himself.

  


* * *

  


Morgana's sitting on the couch licking his paw to brush it against his ears, as cat-like as he's always denied, and Akira waits for it as he fiddles with the wiring of the old TV to figure out how everything all connected. The room is steadily growing darker as the last vestiges of twilight fade from the sky, the back of LeBlanc where his windows point holding no streetlights. Morgana takes notice when only the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling light up the room. His blue eyes are like reflective discs in certain angles when he twists his head around to gauge the shadows swallowing the dusty corners of his room, and he stands up to give his body a good long stretch before going towards Akira.

"Hey, don't you think you should sleep soon?" Morgana asks, and Akira feels a little ridiculous for feeling a little burst of fond warmness as he puts down wires he's been fiddling with and starts putting the whole thing back together, slotting panels back into place. No teen boy should be so happy about having a daily curfew like this, from his cat no less, who is currently sticking his head around his elbow and staring curiously at Akira deftly twisting screws back into their holes.

But even as Akira takes a quick trip down to LeBlanc's bathroom to quickly brush his teeth, listening to Morgana chatter through the open door about how he's starting to smell the difference between the different types of beans as they roast, he remembers an all too quiet apartment with parents whose eyes slid past him as if he wasn't there. It's a quiet thought that settles lightly as he scoops Morgana up when he's finished, giving LeBlanc a last-minute check before trooping back up the stairs to his room.

"And you know, I think I'm charming up Boss even more these days," Morgana boasts from the bed as Akira checks that he's finished any homework that's due and plans the next few days (waiting for Goro's reply for free time, Madarame's Palace, his jobs, his friends). He's doing one last journal entry when Morgana does a small circle in the crevice between his pillow and his headboard and settles there with an order to "don't squish my tail!"

Akira carefully settles his head avoiding Morgana's tail, lights switched off and moonlight hinting something beyond the darkness and Akira waits.

Every night, a few moments after they settle.

"Goodnight, Akira," Morgana says, his childish voice already teetering into a small yawn. He must have moved his tail again because something moves against his scalp, warm curl of a tail resting on the tips of Akira's hair.

He remembers Maruki's question this afternoon, asked in the gentle lemon scent of antiseptic and clean sheets. Maruki's smile was warmly inquisitive when he asked it. "When do you truly feel pain in your heart, Kurusu-kun?"

The answer had been surprisingly simple.

_When someone betrays me._

The television set to a news channel, eating a dinner microwaved way too hot. His mother looking at him uncomfortably when he arrives back from school, quickly packing her lunch for tomorrow and heading back to her room. Akira hadn't even bothered looking up.

There's no point in speaking when you don't expect others to respond.

"Goodnight," he says quietly into still air. A few motes of dust swirl under the muted moonlight.

The tail touching his hair shifts and sleepily taps Akira's forehead, before curling back to where it had been.

"We have to wake up early tomorrow, so let's sleep," Morgana says, before promptly dozing off in his normal snuffles. Akira doesn't take long to follow, thoughts scattering into wisps as he enters his dreams. Normal ones, less clear, of scattered moments.

A cute café adorned with flowers, sipping coffee next to an elegant girl before he's quickly whisked away to a figurine shop display, someone unseen chattering away at model types and prices. He's standing in a foreign country, Ann's smile blinding as she leads him by the hand into a quaint shop. Morgana's a weight on his head, feet balancing on his shoulders arguing with Ryuji as they walk down by the harbourside eating a boat of Takoyaki.

A few moments of introspection, sitting on a roof staring at the moon. It's the glimmering rainbow skyline of a bustling metropolis, air full of smog and night-time breeze, and lights glitter against the veil of dusty light pollution. His phone to the side is turned off, and Akira swings his feet on the rooftop garden completely alone. Adult eyes squint through his glasses imagining constellations he cannot see. He traces them in the dark entirely through memory, and he wonders about strength, about growing up.

He thinks about happiness. He thinks that this is life, and he thinks he should be happy sitting in this night-time, in this moment.

Emptiness.

Then Morgana's paws are kneading his shoulder and the dreams turn into fading memory.

"Hey, wake up! Rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

Akira blinks awake and groans. Ugh. Mornings.

"None of that now," Morgana says chidingly, jumping off the bed and heading towards the staircase. He's obviously excited for food, the glutton, as he sniffs the air. "We should go eat breakfast! When are we going to finish infiltrating Madarame's Palace?"

"Tomorrow," Akira replies simply. Better to finish off Yusuke's matter so he can be free of Madarame as quickly as he can. His dream was still fresh in his mind, that grief and conflict still visceral in its sadness. Clearing the Palace will also make his schedule more predictable if a call comes from Goro, and Morgana gives a nod of approval.

"Good, let's tell the others soon!"

  


* * *

  


He attends school Saturday to give in work and receive more. He greets schoolmates eager to greet him with a smile and banal chatter, deflecting any questions on his cases with well-practised ease while turning the conversations onto them instead. People tend to enjoy talking about themselves to a receptive audience, and Akechi can pretend like the best.

He is, of course, utterly fascinated at the magazines that Shouta-san sneaked into school, of Sakura-san's burgeoning family troubles, of their second-year homeroom teacher getting into that scandal, did you hear? Yes, that new shooting game at the arcade looks fascinating, though he hasn't had a chance to try it. What has he been doing? Reading, mostly, philosophy…

Oh, that is a little nerdy, isn't it? Akechi laughs, and that's the extent of their interactions as Akechi packs up for the day and heads to his internship where he spends some time with Sae. She needs a little assistance in reconciling some conflicts between two reports, and the silence in the coma offices is broken for the first time in a long while as they engage in formal discussion on who had lied – the CEO's wife? Or his daughter?

"It's getting late," Sae says in surprise near eight-o-clock, sighing. "Makoto has been on my case about eating on time lately."

"What about sushi?" Akechi asks cheerfully, his heart holding some actual amusement when it's the first thing that has made Sae think about pausing work.

"Sushi sounds like a great idea, actually," Sae agrees, closing the lid of her laptop. "I know of a great place with cheap prices."

"Will you treat me if I join you, Sae-san?" Akechi asks half-teasingly, remembering that Sae didn't truly mind treating him as much as she implied she did, and Sae gives a considering hum.

"It's a good idea to use our dinner to progress work," Sae finally concludes, placing a few papers they had been working on into her bag and standing up. "Well?" She says, raising one perfectly curved brow. "Let's go."

There isn't a rank up that night, even though they do progress on Sae's understanding of their shared case quite a bit, with Sae hinting of a few personal cases that she has to work on later on.

Sunday usually means Mementos in the afternoon. Mornings are usually kept free, so that he can choose what to do with it.

Sometimes he reads, in Inokashira Park underneath the dappling of waving leaves, or in a niche café in Kichijoji, legs crossed as he gives the words of Hegel, Sun Tzu, Kant, or Iwasaki consideration, discarding or taking their words in as he pleases. Sometimes he goes for less illustrious authors and catches up on some manga he's long followed, scrolling quickly on his phone settled comfortable on his bed.

Other times he sometimes sleeps in, takes a stroll around the city. Catch up on trends.

Today he decides to help Saito again.

"Thank you very much, Akechi-kun!" Saito says with a wrinkled smile as she pours him a cup of tea. It truly wasn't as much of a hassle as Saito implied, as most of the busy work was just moving stuff from upstairs storage downstairs and vice versa. She's still thankful anyway, her house still cool and quiet, the windchime in the backyard ringing its clear bell over the morning. "Oh, when you were helping me, I whipped up something quick for you! Let me get it, Akechi-kun!"

"You really didn't have to," Akechi tries to say, but Saito's well-creased smile has a stubborn _'shoosh'_ quality to it as she stands up and heads towards the kitchen.

Right then her home phone rings in the hallway in harsh beeps, and he hears the echo of a surprised 'oh' from the kitchen.

"Do you mind getting it for me, Akechi-kun?" Saito calls, and Akechi gives her a quick assent as he pads over to the corridor.

"I heard you called Minoru again, Ise," is the first thing he hears when he picks up the phone. There's no greeting or nicety, and Akechi narrows his eyes at the unexpectedly brusque tone of the other voice – a man, middle-aged. Perhaps a smoker, by the rasp at the back of the throat, with inflections of a Kansai dialect in his tone that is being suppressed by a Tokyo accent. When he stays silent, the other man continues.

"So give up already, because even if he ever wanted to see you we'll stop him. Have you already forgotten what you did? Wanting to be part of his life even after that… You're a cancer to him. So just stay in your happy house far away from us, and when you die just send all your inheritance his way, got it?"

The sepia screen on the phone states his name is Choei Saito.

Oh? It seems like he's stumbled upon one of Saito-san's perennially missing family members.

"Is this Choei Saito-san?" Akechi finally asks into the phone, letting the gentle smile on his face leak into his tone. "My apologies, but Saito-san is occupied in the kitchen."

The man falls silent a moment before the voice gains a suspicious quality. "Who're you?" Choei asks, already disgruntled, embarrassed before he cuts himself off. "No, whatever. Tell that criminal what I said and tell her to not call me back."

The dial tone rings against Akechi's ear a moment later, and Saito comes out of the kitchen holding a plate of something in her hands. She places it on the low table on the patio, the morning sunlight giving her a gentle silhouette.

"Who was it?" She asks, and Akechi puts down the phone. He double-checks the type – it's old, plastic yellowing in his hands. It wasn't the type to register and display past calls.

"Just a sales telemarketer," Akechi says confidently with a smile. "Are you interested in new blinds for your windows, Saito-san?"

"Oh, how cheap were they?" Saito asks with interest, and Akechi shrugs.

"It seemed like it was relatively expensive actually. Ten thousand yen for some premium blinds that block UV or something else."

Saito makes a face.

"Ten thousand yen? That's a little…"

"Expensive, yes. By the way, I seem to smell something wonderful?"

Saito laughs her creaky laugh, voice cracking in the way that some elderly do and it's full of joyful anticipation.

"Well, this is my first time trying to make these too," Saito says. When Akechi nears, he realises they were unfinished éclairs. The pastry had been what was wafting through the house as he worked, smelling golden brown and slightly salty in the air, and Saito holds a piping bag of coffee coloured cream in her other hand. "I don't usually make coffee flavoured sweets," Saito says apologetically as she holds one of the hollow tubes and pipes cream into it. When she finishes it, she takes a small spoonful of some icing sugar on top and places it on a small plate. "Will you tell me how it tastes?"

Saito asks this with that wispy white hair that now, Akechi realises, had a spot of brown on one of the locks near her ear because of some coffee powder.

The éclair is not too sweet with a hint of bitterness, and Akechi eats another bite in surprise.

"This is really good, Saito-san," he says with perfect honesty. Saito had finished piping a second one by then, pushing it onto Akechi's plate too.

"Really? I'm glad, Akechi-kun. Eat more!" She insists, smile happy to when she sees Akechi polishing off the first one with relish. "My doctor said to avoid excess sugar, so this is all for you. Thank you again for helping me around the house."

There's at least another five rolls and a whole bag of coffee cream left, though Akechi isn't exactly complaining. He finishes one more and takes the rest back home, carefully placing it in a small fridge he's bought for himself, tucked in the corner.

His mind lingers on the phone call that Saito received, once she is safely out of sight.

The tones are familiar, the words as if spoken many times.

A… criminal, did he say?

Saito's warm eyes set in a face filled with creases indicating a past of laughter and smiles, layered vests and general optimism in her bearing fills his mind. He admits... that he does feel some curiosity.

Should he ask, or perhaps investigate a little himself before approaching the topic?

**Sun Rank 5 – Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  


The moment he steps into Mementos in Shibuya he sees José already sitting in his cart at the entrance, innocent smile wide on his face as he waves like he wasn't the only spot of cheerful colour in the whole of the Metaverse.

"Hey, Mister! Over here!" José stands up in his seat, and when Akechi heads on over he smiles up at him. "Wow, my hunch was correct! I felt a tug on the string, and there you were!"

"A string?" Akechi asks with a raised eyebrow, and José nods.

"Yup, though you probably don't see it. Humans usually don't have that sight," he explains, gesturing at Akechi to sit next to him again. When Akechi doesn't move – this time with a little more determination – José sighs a little fondly and leaps up to grab Akechi's lapel anyway. The next second Akechi's awkwardly sitting in the car, legs stuck out the side as José revs up his car without care.

"So," he starts cheerfully as Akechi starts to begrudgingly right himself, "I was thinking this past week that maybe we can do what we did last time! I drive you to the first weird spot you need, and I'll wait here at the top when you finish so that you can bring me all the flowers you find to me! Then we can chat! Does that sound good?"

"Great," Akechi replies with a little sarcasm that flies completely over José's head because the boy beams.

"I knew you'd see it that way! Then let me lead the way!"

Shido's targets have been steadily been people locked deeper and deeper inside Mementos. José's car follows tunnels that don't strictly wind through the ways that Akechi usually walked, travelling through the dark tunnel tracks themselves, sometimes veering onto tracks that had screeching oncoming trains hurtling towards them (Akechi obviously did _not_ make any undignified noises the first time around, though José didn't seem to notice or care, laughing like the small madman he was).

"Here you go!" José says with a wave of his small arm, pointing to a portal of a Shadow's room. "It's a little deeper than your last target, but all the other weird spots that popped up when you entered are downwards from here! So don't hesitate and just dive!"

"Do you have to turn around corners so fast?" Is Akechi's first answer when he catches his breath, heart trying its best not to hammer at the adrenaline rush a little kid's driving induced.

"Eh?" José tilts his head in confusion before he slaps his hands together. "Oh, I know! This must be the Human Stomach expressing it's upset! Sorry, mister," José apologises with a small, sad frown. "I didn't mean to make your stomach upset with you."

"It's not technically… Fine. It's fine, I forgive you," Akechi cuts himself off, and José perks straight back up.

"That's good," the boy says as he pats himself in reassurance. "I didn't want to mess up right when I started! Okay," José says with a tilt of his head, attention already somewhere else, "I have to go now. I'll be at the entrance when you're done, okay? Good job!"

José honks his car again and leaves in a flush of star balloons and enthusiastic waving, and Akechi sighs.

Where did these flowers come from anyway? Akechi thinks after a few more missions, any flowers he encounters settling somewhere near where his personas were, if Morrigan's pleasantly surprised murmurs were to be believed. There had been none before José appeared.

He tucks his question to the back of his mind when he summons Morrigan against his last mission – Fusa's request, in the deepest level he could go with his current Detective Prince Persona.

The yakuza man spits out vile things as always, and Akechi knows this type of Shadows enough that he doesn't bother exchanging more than a few words before he initiates the fight.

After he's beaten a mutated Baphomet, the Shadow kneels down in front of him.

"A-are you going to kill me, Black Mask?" The Shadow cries, and Akechi rolls his eyes.

"Why do all of you think I'm going to kill you when literally no-one has died?" He asks back, and the Shadow blinks up at him.

"Danna feeds us stories of you, whispers from that politician he's always taking big jobs from. No-one knows your methods on the outside, though we Shadows know better," the Shadow shivers, and Akechi pauses.

"What do you know about The Cleaner?" Akechi demands, and the Shadow is initially resistant. That is before he speaks with the threat of a God's Hand from Akechi's shimmering Persona, grinning wildly down with gleaming gold hair and a silver sword.

Morrigan's gleeful laugh is still in his mind when the Shadow cowers.

"Danna is…" He begins before his halting words become a long, near-unending stream. The subordinate doesn't know Danna's name, just knew that he's been their leader since he joined five years ago. He does know who would know Danna's name though, a man known by all as the Red Lotus.

When he asks about Fusa's agents, the Shadow laughs.

"Danna can convert anyone to his cause," is all the Shadow says. "Especially those who think themselves high and mighty, who value those rotten rules that have betrayed the sheen of honour long ago."

"A mole," Akechi says, low, remembering Fusa's strong grip that day when he declared that trust was one of the most important facets of a dangerous job.

"That man will try to verify the cause a million ways before he'll think of taking our agent out," the Shadow replies, an undertone of scorn in his voice. "Idealistic guys like those are the hardest and easiest to dispose of. Impervious until boom! You find what they care for. It's a wonder how a corrupt politician could've won over a man whose ideals lie in _trust_ and _integrity_ in the first place, though it makes our job easier."

Akechi takes out his humming lightsabre and points it at the Shadow's neck.

_"Who."_

The Shadow quickly blabbers out a name, and Akechi raises an eyebrow.

So, it comes full circle.

A seasoned veteran under the SIU Director, playing double agent with Fusa and the Cleaner while being a point of contact between the Cleaner and the Director as well.

Danna needed to create a 'watertight plan' that could evade Shido's eyes, hmm?

What a busy bee that man is, Akechi thinks humourlessly as he ignores the temptation to twitch his sword a little closer to the Shadow's neck and sheathes it.

  


* * *

  


Navigating back up the entrance doesn't take that long, and he's collected enough flowers that José looks happy when he looks slightly past Akechi's head.

"Wow, so many flowers!" He says, and in the next moment, all the flowers that Akechi had, somehow, collected in the liminal space of his Personas are gone. "Thanks, mister! What do you want to know?"

José settles down in his red seat, as Akechi declines his invitation to cram next to him again and leans against the hood of the car instead.

There are many questions that can be asked of José, frustratingly enough. A clearer answer to 'who are you' perhaps, or maybe 'what are you'? What are Mementos? What is the Metaverse in the first place, and the app as well? Why was he a wildcard, but denied access to the Velvet Room Minato described? Minato had said there was no Igor at all, though he had never asked Akira if he'd met a mysterious hooked nose man in another dimension…

"Wow, mister! You seem to have a lot of questions," José leans forward onto his steering wheel. "That Person always told me if you're curious to ask the first question you have, or you'll just waste time!"

"You keep mentioning That Person," Akechi looks at José, who tilts his head and blinks his yellow eyes at him. "Who are they?"

"Wow, you really don't pull any punches, mister! That's a hard question to answer. What can I say…? He's kind? But kind of stern too."

"That's unhelpful," Akechi states bluntly, eyes narrowed behind Morrigan's bladed mask, and José flinches guiltily.

"Well, human words are flat…"

"How do you speak then?" Akechi cuts off José's repetitive reason, having the gut feeling that José wouldn't feel offended at all.

"Apparently it's kind of overwhelming for humans?" José says, scratching his head. "You guys aren't built for that when you're still here. I mean," José examines Akechi again with that calculated sort of look, before taking the goggles on his neck and peering through them too. "If you have such a big bond with the Great Seal, it probably means you've heard it before?"

Minato had never really spoken aloud in the Sea of Souls. Akechi had been the only one to speak, while Minato laid on his bench, posture peaceful, expression slightly sleepy as his one bright eye watched Akechi with infinite patience.

"You mean when his voice echoed in my head?" Akechi asks, and José takes off his goggles to hang them off his neck again.

"Echo? Like… oh! I get it! Yeah, like that!" José nods and looks thoughtful. "That Person told me not to, but since you're not all here and you've heard it before… Do you want to try?" José asks, all pure enquiry, and Akechi nods.

"Okay so, That Person is like

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**_this?_ **

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The word that José pushes burns in his brain – it's not a word, but a pure concept of < _information_ , a large boulder of an implication of everything José has ever thought, experienced, perceived, understood about That Person all at once packed into José's concept of That Person's identity – a burning blue, blue, _blue_ , (he likes blue, he does, looking at it, burning) a being that encompassed everything and nothing at once, who is at once great and hurt, at once all-powerful and empathetic, fading, weak, and apathetic. That Person is regarded with joy and admiration, with attention and curiosity honed to go somewhere, at last, a being who told José he had potential, a star, eternal, maybe infinite, but José didn't really care that much about that in that moment because he's finally found a body he thinks he likes and That Person laughs in a way that touches all the corners of the universe because that's what he is, a small wisp of a thought from a single person in their weakest moments of breath—

-

_That's enough_

-

A familiar voice cuts through, and the whole weight of a million years _(but only a moment)_ worth of impressions and memories and thoughts and existence is lifted from his mind, and Akechi finds that he's rolled off the hood of José's car to land on his knees. He's heaving in harsh breaths, lungs rattling in his chest as something drips from his nose and mouth.

It's the metallic taste of blood, pouring from his nose and sliding down his throat and José is kneeling next to him in worry.

"Oh no, you're nearly dead! But just as I thought, you didn't explode like That Person said you would! Not that pure yet… But wait! That's not important! Here, eat this, just swallow it, okay?"

José stuffs a whole Soma in his mouth, and Akechi is revived under its light. His wounds close, his breath evens, and there is no pain at all though he feels like he will start dying again if he even thinks about what he just went through.

But even the tattered vestiges, the minute amount of residue left in his mind is enough to understand much more than he expected.

"The Sea of Souls… How many are there?"

"For you? One," José says, face still set in worry as Akechi rolls to lay splay-eagled on the floor. José shuffles next to his head, hands reaching out curiously to touch Akechi's hair after a moment. His deft hands quickly twist Akechi's hair into some sort of complicated short braid.

"But there are many," Akechi says, "and you're not…"

To his frustration, Akechi himself is struggling with words.

"Words are hard, aren't they?" José sighs. "But it might be easier if you think of your world and my world like… dimensions? Um, let me get some paper. I'm good at drawing, you know!"

José hops up back to his cart, jumping over the pool of blood Akechi left without a care as he rummages for some paper and a pencil.

"Okay, um, so you are…" José trails off before he pats Akechi's shoulder and nods. "Yes, three-dimensional! So here I am, drawing on paper, in a two-dimensional format." José finishes drawing a face onto the piece of paper he's drawing on, though the head was star-shaped and the facial features were placed more than a little wonkily. "Because I am three-dimensional, I can shape the second dimension! Okay, so mister, if this drawing is my two-dimensional object on my two-dimensional, self-contained universe of one page… what if I have _two_ pieces of paper?"

José whips out a second sheet of paper alongside the first. "Is this… _two_ two-dimensional universes? Maybe it'll be clearer if I do this…"

José draws the identical star-face on the second piece of paper, and Akechi's brain is entirely, for once, too tired for a discussion like this.

He doesn't stop José though, watching the little boy (but not so little, having formed from millions of years in a single, prolonged, universal thought) drawing earnestly on his paper.

"Now I have separate pieces of paper, with two of the same thing! I know someone who said yes, the two separate pieces of paper are two different two-dimensional universes at this point. That's until I did this!"

José triumphantly tapes the two pieces of paper together, and now instead of two A4 pages it was one, pasted A3 page with two star-faces next to each other, staring down their mismatched eyes at Akechi lying prone on the floor, and José laughs.

"Two pieces of paper are now one, so does that mean you just manipulated two separate two-dimensional universes into one by manipulating their _three-dimensional space_?"

Akechi places a hand over his eyes.

"Concepts, thoughts, the collective… unconsciousness. They're from a further dimension, aren't they?"

José grins.

"Yes! I don't know what the count is, but the concept – the _thought_ itself definitely exceeds a mere three dimensions, mister! That's why humans are watched so much, you know," José says, settling down, eyes ever wide and curious.

Innocence, in its pure, most unfiltered form. Perhaps that was why José was drawn towards the form of a child, ever exploring, ever discovering. Still so startingly young.

"My star faces can't reach out and touch me," José says, patting his drawings, "but I can touch them. In this situation, I know they can't do anything to me, right? But that's where humans are different! You all, three-dimensional and limited… Your words kind of just, _reference_ a concept, do you get me? No one ever really says what they truly mean. They can't send it like I just tried with you. But you all still developed," José says, his words lighting up his eyes with their inhuman yellow glow, smile bright and eager. "Humans are fascinating, because you," José grimaces, thinking for a long moment before he chooses a word. "You _shaped_ us. You reached out to another impossible, further dimension with your ideas and culture and history and transformed what already existed into powerful, terrible, different, vibrant, ugly things when before we… were different!"

José smiles. "There are many more watching humanity that you realise. So many want your… unlimited potential. Power. Your world, filled with variety and change and transformation so quick, creative. That's why…"

José stops with a grimace.

"Oh, wow. I know it's a really bad idea now, but I really want to push something else to you so you understand again, you know? But I don't think it'll be a great idea. I don't want Him to get angry at me," José says. "Anyway, I think today's discussion is enough for the flowers you gave me! Thank you for them, by the way!" José jumps up, using his inhuman strength to drag Akechi upright and give him a friendly pat on the arm. "Good job! You should probably leave to get some rest or something now though. Somas only do so much."

Akechi manages to stagger upright with an elephant of a migraine in his head, José's happy wave behind him, cheerfully telling him to 'visit him anytime, mister!' and 'wow, our bond is thicker now! Does that mean I did good?'

**Magician Rank 2 - José**

  


* * *

  


Akira's exhausted after defeating Madarame's Shadow and stealing his Treasure. Sayuri was beautiful, even to his inexperienced eye, and Yusuke had looked at it with a mix of complicated sorrow and joy.

The battle had been a difficult one, as each of them had fumbled as they figured out Madarame's tricks. Even Morgana is quiet in his bag, having curled on a few textbooks and fallen asleep. He's kind of jealous really. He wants a convenient human who would carry him back home too. But at least now they've helped Yusuke recover the true Sayuri, and the thought of Yusuke's gratefulness brings Akira a sense of... righteousness. Of joy.

A quick check of his phone tells him it's only Tuesday though, and well, it's not as if he _hates_ school but...

He barely keeps himself from grimacing, keeping himself awake by calculating costs against his savings if he wishes to buy Takemi's medicine to replenish their lost stock when he's passing Yon-Germain bakery and sees a familiar silhouette. His feet stop even before his mind even registers what he's seeing.

It's the silhouette of one he's been thinking of for the past few weeks (months), and Akira swallows.

Goro is standing there, thinking over their menu by the looks of it, hand to his chin, head tilted casually in thought. He looks as well-kept as always, uniform pressed straight even at the end of the day with his hair styled naturally, and he draws nearer without really thinking about it.

"Hey," he says, because he's eloquent, and Goro doesn't startle, though an eyebrow does twitch when he looks sideways. Then his face transforms into a more real smile, something that Akira knows is shown to very, very few people, and Akira quirks his lips in response.

"What a surprise, Akira-kun! Heading home?" Goro asks, and Akira's so tired even shrugging seems like a chore so he nods. "You look exhausted," his friend continues, concern colouring his expression as he leans closer. "Adapting to a new place can be exhausting, but remember to take care of yourself, Akira-kun. Especially if it's any trouble," Goro continues with a hint of mischievousness that lights up his brown eyes into something more burnt red. "I don't know if you noticed, but I have quite a few contacts with the police."

And Akira. There's something stuck in his throat, a response that's risen to his mind.

Madarame's Shadow had stated something, a 'Black Mask' that was using the Metaverse for their own means. An unscrupulous fellow causing the mental shutdowns. The very same coma cases Goro Akechi is key in investigating, and Akira swallows.

_Are you GA?_

It swells in his chest before it dies in a wave of fear when he looks at Goro's face, their friendliness.

He can't even imagine them coloured with disinterest.

Akira can't help but wish he was a little braver. Dauntless, even, by the thought that if he, if he approached this without thinking, without preparing, without being somewhere he can _explain_ himself if need be, he would lose this small crack in Goro's smiling, apathetic mask.

"I know, Detective Prince," rises to his lips instead. "Been a busy day, that's all," Akira offers more to explain his exhaustion, which was well. A vast understatement. "What did you do today?"

"Visited Shiho-san," Goro replies easily. "As you know, I'm part of Kamoshida's investigations, though I haven't been visiting the school that much, unfortunately. Shiho-san is part of my jurisdiction now, as well as verifying details of his Olympic past to see if his medal should get officially revoked."

Akira licks his lips. He wishes Morgana was awake, muttering something at him. Probably something disparaging like, _'hey, you should really work on your charm, Akira, why are you such an awkward mess'_ , and he's _tired_ , okay, Morgana.

"When will you be free for coffee?" Akira asks instead, and Goro sighs.

"My schedule has been packed full, lately," Goro laments. "If matters go well, perhaps Saturday evening?"

Akira's smile floats back onto his face.

"Alright. I have a train to catch."

But before he could truly leave, Goro insisted on treating him to one of Yon-Germain's breads, some fancy ham and cheese and lettuce thing that Akira never bought because he thought it was too expensive for what it offered.

When he bites into it, he's surprisingly refreshed by its taste.

Huh. Akira gives a reassessing look at the bread in his hand, trying to ignore the growing stress at the thought of the coming Saturday.

Maybe this would be a great bread to bring into the Metaverse…?

  


* * *

  


It comes along with a text.

[Hatake Tobe: Thanks for the info, I'm getting on it right now.]

[Hatake Tobe: I won't cut you out, okay? Don't be so intense now.]

[Hatake Tobe: By the way, do you still care about that girl you were threatened with?]

[Hatake Tobe: Shido placed her as a hotel worker for a reason, you know.]

[Hatake Tobe: If you still care for her… Maybe you should visit.]

Akechi looks down at the notifications, texting a short reply before he places his phone facedown on his desk. The sounds of school surround him, the rumours swirling mostly about their Class President, some new rumour over her father or something, and Mai Sakura sits lonely at her desk, shoulders hunched as she picks at her lunch.

That barely registers though, as Akechi tries to – tries to resolve the conflict that has suddenly appeared before him.

The grip on his attache case is entirely too tight when he is, once again, in front of Hinata Osumi's apartment building after school. Questions with the neighbours reveal that Hinata Osumi hasn't been seen for the past two weeks, the only indication that she continued to live here food and necessity deliveries that came by every few days. They also hear the child crying through the walls sometimes, for long hours.

Akechi's frowning, hesitating. There's an empty pit in his heart still, when he thinks of Shion and Hinata Osumi, filled with reasons and questions of a million kinds.

"Hinata-san," Akechi finally calls, knocking on the door.

There's no movement. No sound. If the neighbours hadn't told him that Hinata was inside – hasn't been to work for the length of her disappearance in her apartment – then he would've thought it empty.

"Hinata-san," Akechi knocks again, more insistently. To his surprise, he feels… worry.

No-one responds even after another few minutes of knocking. He stands there, looking at the worn door of the apartment building before he has a hunch.

A suspicion.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he taps the Metaverse app.

"Hinata Osumi," he says to the app, and the app blinks.

The name is a hit.

When he knocks again and no-one answers, Akechi leaves, down the trash-littered staircases, the graffitied walls, and thinks.

He had once wished someone, anyone, could have saved his mother. Even if she was petty with vicious words, harsh and soft according to her moods and was, in retrospect, not the most likeable person.

And it was his fault for brushing off Shido's threat to her so easily. He owes enough to himself to at least... try.

  


* * *

  


"Y-y-y-you!" That's what greets Akira when he opens the door Saturday evening in LeBlanc instead of Sojiro's surly tones, and Akira blinks up. Sojiro is nowhere to be seen – wiping glasses or making coffee. Instead, there's only a single girl crouching on a chair with long orange hair that peeks out of a huge mask pointing at him. When Akira points a finger at himself in question, the mask wobbles. "Y-yes, you! The one that called that maid after Sojiro left the other day! D-don't you think I don't know you're secretly a, a pervert, though I won't tell anyone if you answer my questions!"

"…Who're you?" Akira asks bluntly, Morgana peering over his shoulder with interest, and the girl's finger trembles, before she decisively stands up on her seat. Her mask nearly knocks against the wall when she puts her hands on her hips. The painted, staring eyes on the mask were kind of creepy, to be honest.

"I am the great Futaba Sakura! The daughter of your host, you maid-lover!"

"We've never met," Akira points out. "Why would you have questions for me?"

"You," the girl, Futaba, seems to have lost that moment of bravery and shrunk back into a ball again, bobbling mask bumping into the table. "I- Ow! I bit my tongue!"

Akira wordlessly goes behind the bar counter and grabs a glass of water. Futaba doesn't hesitate to grab it when he offers it to her, and she takes off her mask just enough to show the shadow of her chin and nose while she sips as fast as she can from the glass at her awkward angle.

It's a prime opportunity. It truly is.

Akira, lightning-fast, whips her mask up and off.

"H-hey! That's my key item! Give it back—AAH, YOUR FACE IS SO CLOSE!"

Akira wonders how an evening he anticipated to spend with Goro has turned into this as Futaba Sakura cringes from her seat in the chair and buries herself into a corner of LeBlanc's booths. Their faces hadn't even been close – it had been the normal distance of a server to a customer, really, and Akira is deadpanning at the sight even as Morgana is half-bemused, half-concerned in his ear.

Outside, Akechi hears the scream. He watches the two interact through the glass panes of LeBlanc's doorway.

And his hand falls away from the handle, slipping away through Yongen-Jaya's late-night crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aishin linked an absolutely cute and adorable fanart and I'm... the colouring? That pot of marigolds, and Akechi and Akira drawn so cutely - thank you very much! It made my day a lot happier :D  
> Please check it out if you wish->  
> https://bitteraishin.tumblr.com/post/625955837840703488/fanart-for-marigolds-by-colbubone-of-my-favorite
> 
> Sorry Akira, you can only establish one confidant link at a time the game says so. And yes, he totally got stat-blocked, HAHA (sorry not sorry). Fusa's past fate has been kinda illuminated, Saito's backstory is actually spicier than it looks, Jose is... gonna keep dropping bombs and thinking it's alright, even though it was a very exasperated Minato coming in clutch. And hur. Shiho is going to level _soon_ , Ryuji is great energy, and Hinata uwu, I think you guys will probably see where... it's going.  
> Let the very slow explosion begin. Lol. Sometimes I look at that lone slow burn tag I have, and I wonder how many people realise just how much that defines this fic AHAHAHA...HA
> 
> Thank you guys for being so nice! Your kudos and comments truly inspire me to continue writing so consistently. Having people along on a journey is so... wonderful! And so _nice_ too, I sometimes. I can't guys. I wrote this for myself initially, to fulfil my feelings for Akechi to be Badass and Smart and Everything He Could Have Been Dammitall (because im a useless fan) but now I truly wish I don't disappoint you all as we continue going through stuff. I have a conclusion in my head already, I just need to _get_ there now.  
> I had to cut a Yaldy scene this chapter, but hehe. probs not that important hehehe. (I'll keep José, tho thanks for telling me :3)  
> (Insert: during all this Narukami is chatting with Nanako and stroking Cali, the Calico Cat because he is Original. His Chad Energy is strong as he sings the Junes Jingle in perfect three-part harmony alongside Nanako, the original jingle, and himself)  
> And since it's Chapter 30 (wowie) I'm so, so sorry for the long AN but here's the Arcana list:
> 
> Universe 10 - Minato Arisato  
> Fortune 10 - Wakaba Ishikki  
> Justice 10 – Fusazane Atsuzawa  
> Tower 6 - Hinata Osumi  
> Devil 5 – Masayoshi Shido  
> Sun 5 – Ise Saito  
> Fool 4 - Akira Kurusu  
> Hanged Man 4 - Fusatsune Tsuchihashi  
> Star 4 Hikaru Kondo  
> Empress 3 - Haru Okumura  
> Magician 2 – José  
> Moon 2 - Sae Niijima  
> Hermit 1 - Futaba Sakura  
> Chariot 1 – Ryuji Sakamoto  
> Temperance 1 - Shiho Suzui


	31. Chapter 31

The year is 2005, and in his memories, there isn't much that changed in the city of Tokyo. The buildings are still tall, the people are still crowded, the world is still filled with rainbow billboards filled with smiling men and women with too many teeth. Neon lights flash in the distance from the main of Shinjuku's late-night district, down the street from their apartment.

He is seven, and the day is becoming dark.

Goro Akechi is waiting for his mother to come home. He has already eaten the leftovers from yesterday's dinner as a snack, and he's started the rice in the rice cooker, the gluey, sweet smell starting to rise in the apartment. His red backpack lies empty near his feet, and he's spread the day's homework sheets on their small dinner table. He's finished the maths sheets, the geography colouring, the matching-the-names he needed to do for history. He's left the Japanese character sheets untouched save for a few faked scribbles in the first few lines to imply he tried.

The clock ticks loud above him as he swings his feet. He looks in the fridge to see if there are any snacks to eat and sees none, so he gets a glass of water instead and switches on the television.

Phoenix Ranger Featherman Origins replays are on. It's not the time for the new episode of Phoenix Ranger Featherman R yet, but Akechi likes Origins nearly just as much. Sometimes, he likes it even more, after he finally managed to catch the last episode of the Origins series that leads into to Featherman R.

He'd watched as he saw Feather Condor stare into the void of space filled with Zerg, his silver helmet trained unfalteringly at his inevitable doom. He needed to deliver the Silver Crystal into its depths to eliminate the Zerg Queen that was hiding inside, but everyone knew that it would be his very last trip. Condor had always been the noble, dignified leader, inspiring the others, and even now he stood strong as he took off his black Condor mask to reveal his strong features.

"I'll give the mantle of leadership to you, Feather Hawk," Black had said to Red, who had started as the bumbling, excited new initiate trying to replace the last Feather Red at the beginning of the show. "I know you'll do well. You've only grown stronger and braver since the day I recruited you into the Feathermen, and I can whole-heartedly say… I believe in you, Hawk. You're the best of us all."

Red's eyes start watering when he held the Black Condor Mask, though his tears had only landed inside his own visor.

"No, don't do this, Feather Condor! The Feathermen will never be the same without you! I don't know how to be a leader like you. I'm… I'm not the leader you think I can be!"

Black had looked down at Red solemnly.

"Have you ever doubted me and my decisions, Feather Hawk?"

"No, never!" Hawk replies and the next shot featured Black against the swirling vortex that was swallowing space and the stars itself. It hid the last egg of the Zerg Queen was desperately trying to hatch so that she could overturn the Feathermen once and for all and rule the Universe and Beyond. She had to be stopped. For Earth. For the Universe. For the sake of their promises to friends past, present and future.

"Even when I lead Blue to his death?"

"Not then!" Red insists, even through a flashback of Feather Swan's blue mask lying ownerless in a glass case in their ship.

"Even when I stormed Zergcron's Fortress and you needed to save me from my own folly?"

"We were the ones who didn't see that you were hurting so much, Condor," someone says behind Red, and Red turns to see Feather Owl standing there, the laugh that's usually on his face gone. "Don't go blaming yourself now. I swore I'll always be there for you, and this time I will be. I won't fail you like I failed you and Blue."

Owl takes off his yellow mask, and his bright spikey yellow hair bursts free the moment he takes it off. A moment later he's smiling as he steps right next to Black, winking at Red.

"Hey Red, take my Mask too, won't you?"

Red catches the Owl Mask, and his hands start shaking.

"Not you too, Owl?" Red asks, even as more footsteps sound behind Red. The whole team stands on top of the spaceship now, as Green steps forward, cocky laughter in his voice.

"Without me, the resident genius, how can you idiots even drive the space-ship to reach the Zerg Queen?"

"I'm the strongest one out of all of you!" Pink declares, hands on her hips as she shakes her long curly brown hair free from her helmet. "If anyone is beating the Zerg Queen after she killed my brother like that, it's me!"

They both hand Red their Masks and stand in front of Black with challenge in their eyes.

"No, you can't…" Black had said, shaking his head, but the rest of the team stop him there.

"If you can, why can't we?" Yellow challenges, voice heated up. "We're a team, you said so!"

Red steps up then, face determined. "I'm going too!"

"No!" All four of his senior Feathermen immediately yell at him, and Black sighs and continues.

"I never got to finish my thought but… Red. If you've never doubted one of my decisions, why doubt this one? I know you'll be the best Leader that the Featherman will ever have. It's because I know you're here that I can go defeat the Zerg Queen without fear."

Red's expression is animated through the visor to show that he looks unwilling, clenching his teeth as he held the Feather Masks of his friends.

"And if you go, who will tell Feather White this stupid thing we're about to do?" Green says cheerfully, and at the reminder of White still recovering after the Zerg Queen's last attack, taking a blow to save Red, did Red falter.

"Us old Feathermen need to step aside for youngsters like you and White," Pink laughs, and Red crumples to the floor, knowing there's nothing he can say to deter them now. "And anyway, who knows? Maybe if we're around to help Ol' Black, we won't die when we use the Silver Crystal! Keep up the hope, Red!"

Pink winks and Hawk starts crying when each of older Feathermen starts making their preparations, one of the three times he ever does so in all 200+ episodes he's ever been in. The show starts playing the opening theme song as they each suit up for the last time without their helmets, showing flashbacks of the entire series of the moments Red had with them throughout the last fifty-two episodes. Yellow saving him from having his lunch stolen from a minor Zerg all the way back from episode five, Green's disapproval over his skills before he started warming up to Red after he'd yelled at him that he'd never be the old Red, but he'll always keep trying anyway. Pink's bubbly nature as she showed Red how to use their Ranger Powers to the fullest.

And Black, believing in him from the beginning. Recruiting him, guiding him, giving him advice, always serious until he tripped over thin air because he was uncontrollably clumsy when he wasn't in Ranger Mode. His rare smile when he said to Red, _"You're our future, Red. Take care of yourself."_

Akechi watched from Red's perspective as they board the ship, Green revving it up as it shot towards the vortex before the show cut to Black standing as he stared into space.

"You guys can back out, you know."

The other three faces cut in, smiling. "Never!"

"Alright," Black says, voice smiling even though his face stays ever grim. "We're going in." They spiral into the vortex, Green wheeling around desperate Zerg trying to shoot them down with lightning-quick controls, Owl and Pink manning the guns on either side as the crystal in Black's shaking hands grows ever brighter. They see the huge form of the half-insect Zerg Queen screeching at them. Black leaps out of the ship then with the Silver Crystal in his fist, diving straight down to the Zerg Queen and the egg she's hugging.

Black struggles, his great power chipping away until he's nearly blasted away from the wave of Psychic Force that the Zerg Queen shoots at him, but then there are three pairs of hands over his, and Black looks up to see his friends shining their Ranger colours smiling at him.

"We can do this together!"

Then it's Red watching as the vortex explodes into a beautiful blinding silver, reflecting off his helmet as the theme song ends. Red's shown to walk slowly back to sit next to a comatose White back on Earth, as he looks out the window to a peaceful Earth sky.

 _"For the first time I wondered what it meant to be a hero,"_ Red thought as a voiceover over the last few scenes showing him going back to his normal life, the Zerg eliminated for now. _"I wonder what it meant to be a Featherman. The normal citizens will never know what Black and the others did, even though they saved their lives. And I'm here, alone. Even though I don't know if I believe Black when he said I would be a good leader but… I know one thing. I will continue onwards. I will fight for the future they created, and I'll never give up. Because I am… Feather Hawk."_

Akechi watched as the scene cut to each of Hawk's future friends still living their lives without knowing their fates – Owl eating a bowl of curry, Argus talking seriously to someone at her Kendo club. Falcon is flinching under his father's yelling, Swan is studying alone at the library, and Parakeet smells a flower at the florist she works part-time.

The very last scene of Origins shows the line of Featherman Masks that Red placed in his room, sunlight pouring onto them in the promise of the future that all the viewers already know in Featherman R. To know that Black had been right all along – that Red was prophesied to be the best ever Featherman in all of history.

Although the scene was always rated in any top ten saddest moments of the Featherman franchise, Akechi hadn't been a child who cried much even then. He'd watched Black surrounded by friends who would jump into death with him, he watched Red (his unbreakable hero) break as he watched them leave. He had curled himself into a ball, scrunched up his toes in his socks, and hummed along with the ending theme instead, mind remembering Black's one, last happy expression at his friends being there for him.

He watches the current Origins episode playing now, episode 23 instead of 52, where Red had accidentally eaten Green's favourite chocolate pudding and the genius was now glowering down at him saying that _his_ Red would never have done that, and wonders.

Goro Akechi is seven years old, and he wonders if he'll ever have friends like that, since everyone at school currently hated him because someone said he was dirty because his mom was dirty.

He wonders if anyone will break if they saw him leave.

(When the year is 2016 and he is eighteen, he will wear a mask made out of twisted hatred and revenge knowing that this is not the kind of hero Black was. He will know that he is more of a villain, a tragic one-liner to a story of someone more golden, more pure. Someone like Akira, who stood strong like Black, persevered like Red, with friends like Yellow and Pink and Green on his side. He will think he's set his childish notions of heroes and villains aside, only to realise that he hadn't after all, that he still had that dream in his heart when he watches Akira defy odds, again and again, see that kindness can still shine after injustice and sacrifice and betrayal and wonder why, why hadn't he, why didn't he, before realising, of course. How could someone like him ever have dreamed to be a hero, with something like Loki inside him craving everyone's destruction?)

However, he is seven and he's been waiting for his mother to come back after a rare dayshift at the club because it is Saturday. The rice now smells fully cooked, and the world has become shadowed. Wind blows through the open windows carrying the sound of beeping cars, and the key turns in the lock.

"Goro, you've done the rice, right?" Akechi gets up and holds the door open as his mother comes through, shucking off her shoes casually before padding inside while Akechi locked the door. His homework sheets are still on the table, and his mother frowns when she sees some unfinished.

"You know I'll only help with Japanese," she warns, and Akechi nods.

"It's only Japanese I have a little trouble with," he lies, and she sighs when she thinks of needing to spend more time awake to help him. Akechi feels a little stab of guilt that quickly fades when she spends time to coach him through words he already knew after they'd eaten, joining him for the last half of the newest Featherman R episode. Red was encouraging the new Black Falcon, telling him that he believed that Falcon could become just as strong as everyone else, and Akechi strangely couldn't tear his eyes away when Red bent down and hugged Falcon.

"Never give up," Red says to Falcon, visor hiding his expression. "You're not alone. We – the Feathermen – will always be here for you. I was once as weak as you, but I became stronger because I believed in my friends when they told me to believe in myself."

"It's so hard," Falcon says, shoulders trembling as he bowed his head against the hug, their helmets clinking together, and Red laughs.

"Of course it's hard," Red says, voice strong, the strongest out of all the Feathermen now. He looks at Black Condor's old mask on his new comrade, and he doesn't falter. "But you will overcome it, with me next to you every step of the way."

It's Black that steps backwards from the hug, to stare determinedly at the whole sky of Zerg fighters in the sky threatening Earth, Yellow already at the front with his barriers, Pink flashing left and right cutting down the fighters next to her, and Black stands firm.

"If you're there with me, Hawk, I know I can try again."

Akechi reaches out for his mother's hand when the episode ends, but she's already asleep on the couch, snoring a little after an exhausting day. So, he gets up and takes out the blankets that are in the closet exactly for situations like these, laying it over her.

Then after he brushes his teeth he switches off the lights and goes back to his own bed, watching the moon slowly rise into a night sky that might, somewhere, hold Zergs and intergalactic empires and people like Black and Red and Green and Blue, and he lets that hope lift him into sleep.  


* * *

  
"Why did I choose to do this face to face?"

The girl droops morosely in front of him, the large mask back to balancing on her shoulders thunking onto the table when she lets out a large sigh, and Akira sits across from her after he carefully placed the mask back over her head. Morgana has retreated into the bag for now, curious enough to listen in without involving himself into the conversation, and Akira sighs inwardly as he takes out his phone and sees a text from Goro.

[Goro Akechi: I'm sorry, Akira-kun. I might not be able to make it after all, I've been called to do some overtime with a supervisor. Would you mind rescheduling?]

[Goro Akechi: I'm truly sorry about such late notice. I hope you'll forgive me.]

There had been a niggling feeling that this would happen anyway since Goro hadn't hidden exactly how busy he'd been lately. This is hardly something Akira wouldn't forgive Goro for, so he just swallows the disappointment and replies.

[Akira: It's ok. Tell me when you're free next.]

He slips the phone back into his pocket right when Futaba Sakura straightens up, regaining a little bit of energy.

"Okay, since my brain has turned into mush I'm just going to say it. So I'm saying it. Right now. Because I'm not a coward. You're a Phantom Thief of Heart, aren't you?" asks the girl demandingly, and out of all the things his boss's daughter could've said, that may have ranked on the very bottom of his list.

Even as Morgana yowls a panicked _'What?!'_ Akira is straight-faced when he replies.

"No, I'm not."

"Liar!" Futaba Sakura protests. "No other person could be! You're changing people's hearts like how GA is comatosing people, aren't you? You won't be even able to deny it when that Madarame guy has that change of heart like that Kamoshida guy. There's no-one else it _can_ be!"

GA. That name again.

"How is this guy popping up everywhere?" Morgana wonders out loud before he turns to Akira. "Do you think it's worth it to ask her more on this mysterious guy? It's highly likely that this GA is the Black Mask Madarame was talking about, after all. She seems to know something."

Akira looks at Morgana, considering.

It was only a moment but Futaba Sakura immediately lets out an annoyed huff.

"What's with the guys I know and them all being catpeople? Stop staring at your cat and just answer me! Are you part of the Phantom Thieves? Did you change Kamoshida's cognition to change his heart? _How can you enter the Metaverse?"_

Futaba's voice is getting higher and higher, and Akira isn't – well, he isn't cold-hearted, as much as his schoolmates seem to wish he'd suddenly become a psycho knife-wielding monster on them, nor does he usually ignore people he sees in need. He's sat through a few panic attacks before, and it doesn't take much effort for him to bend over the table and speak gently.

"Hey, breathe with me–"

Soon Futaba's mask is on the table again, as Futaba hides her face in embarrassment.

"This is why I don't go out," she's grumbling to herself, ears pink before she glances upwards. Akira finally has a chance to see Futaba's face – pointy-chinned, large eyes. Futaba Sakura looks young, hunched over as she is in LeBlanc's seat. "You're um, a lot nicer than I thought."

"Thanks," Akira replies wryly, and Futaba hides her face again. This is probably why no-one has seen her for the past year, Akira thinks as he remembers the old men and some of the rumours in the neighbourhood always mentioning that Sojiro did have a daughter, but hadn't been seen lately. There had been rumours of all kinds – abuse, neglect, becoming a hikikomori, online schooling – but it seems like the hikikomori thing was probably the most correct.

Though throughout all of this, Akira doesn't feel like Futaba is dangerous. In fact, looking at her, he feels more like that moment when he was facing Yusuke a few weeks ago.

Like he was going to meet an old friend, like her voice was one that had teetered on the edges of his dreams chattering at something, one way or another, and Akira wants to trust that sense of safety. Of fondness, just by seeing that glimpse of Futaba Sakura's whole face.

"Why are you searching for GA?" He finally asks, and Futaba suddenly straightens up, eyes wide.

"Do you know him? Is he why you can go to the Metaverse?"

"…No, I don't know him. I'm just curious."

Futaba narrows her eyes at him, suspicious, before she settles down again. Her fingers trace against the laminate over LeBlanc's tables, the lazy fans on the ceiling lazily spinning as she takes her time to formulate her answer. "Though you still haven't answered my questions, which are, of course, the main reason I embarked on this Main Story Quest in the first place, I will answer yours to get your trust stat up. I am searching for GA because he's my friend. Kind of. It's complicated."

A friend.

For the first time, Akira's hearing news about the Black Mask that's not negative. From someone who seems to know him deeper than just hearsay.

"Not an enemy?" Akira asks, measuring her every reaction behind his glasses as she bristles.

"No! GA is a _good guy_ , and that's why I'm trying to find him before it's too late!"

Too late. _Too late._

Does she know something about why Goro would die? Was she the first key?

Futaba Sakura is not lying – there's conviction in her gaze, her fists clenched like she's tired of defending this point. She did seem like she was probably in the same camp as that other guy – Narukami, the one Morgana shadowed – who had been investigating for GA near their school. What was it that he'd said? That they had set up measurements around the city?

…Was that how Futaba had found them in regard to Madarame?

Wait, how big was this business behind Futaba Sakura if they could monitor a city like Tokyo?

Akira measures the girl across from him, noting that she'd also known about Kawakami visiting him at night last night, calling him a maid-lover. Nobody should know though, especially since he used LeBlanc's public phone. Which meant…

Akira barely prevents himself from making a face.

"Do you watch me sleep?" Akira asks bluntly, and Futaba squawks.

"What?! No! I, I didn't set up any security cameras in the storage room, don't be weird!"

Akira squints dubiously at the girl across from him, and Morgana sighs a tired _'what is even happening?'_ just as Sojiro comes back with his arms full with groceries, the door at Le Blanc tinkling open. He blinks in surprise when he sees both of them sitting across from each other.

"Oh, you're back early. And Futaba? I haven't seen you in LeBlanc for a while. Is everything okay at home? And I see you two have met," Sojiro says, nodding at them both, and Akira nods even while Futaba immediately starts getting twitchy.

"Sojiro, you're back! I just… wanted a walk! But I've had enough of socialising for today so I'm going to make like a tree! Bye, see you at home!"

Futaba promptly bundles the mask under her arm, slides out of the booth and races to the door. Sojiro is left staring with his arms full of bags as Futaba practically sprints out and he sighs, scratching his head.

"Is it just me and my old age? Why do I feel like I understand her less by the day?" He asks himself before he squints at Akira in a classic _'I'm watching you'._ "I hope you didn't do anything funny to her."

Akira wants to protest that it wasn't _him_ that was doing the ambushing, but he shakes his head anyway.

"I'll help clean," he offers and does just that for the rest of the night. He thinks he got a bit closer to Sojiro that night when he closes up, though now he definitely feels a little more iffy at the security cameras that seemed so innocent before, set in LeBlanc's corners.

Before he sleeps that night while he's doing his nightly journaling, he receives a string of texts.

[?: Now that we met face to face it's polite for me to send these now, right? That's what introductions are for, and Mom has always told me not to be rude.]

[?: Don't think it escaped my notice that you didn't reply to my questions!]

[?: Well most of them anyway.]

[?: Don't think my suspicions are over. Your brooding mysterious silent-protagonist archetype won't work with me!]

When it turns out that he can't delete the new number just like how he couldn't delete the Meta-Nav app the first few days he arrived at Tokyo, Akira pets Morgana as animal therapy wondering if this was going to be the advent of another weird dream. Next thing he knew, Futaba Sakura would actually be a world-class hacker who terrorised governments as a side-job or something with how crazy his life was.

For a moment, Akira honestly thinks about getting a new phone that's not so easily hacked.

[Akira: Any recommendations on phone security?]

[Goro Akechi: …What have you gotten yourself into this time, Akira-kun?]  


* * *

  
The calm light blue of the hospital corridor is filtered through the dappling leaves of the vibrant foliage from the trees outside the corridor windows, all shades of green underneath the reflection of a white sun as they protect the few patients and visitors who sit and enjoy the sunshine. A few beds cramp the corridor now and then, tucked to the side in preparation for new patients as nurses and doctors do their normal routines.

He knows the way to Shiho's room now, and it doesn't take long for him to approach her open doorway.

"Yeah, and there's this girl called Mika who has been competing for my shoots lately," Ann Takamaki's voice echoes out alongside the sounds and lives of the other rooms. Her voice is cheerful as Akechi arrives at Shiho's room, and sure enough, she sits in the visitor's chair in cheerful casual clothes themed in red. "She's really incredible! Last time she used some really authentic fake tears and somehow got me kicked off the set, and I kind of realised how much I wasn't into modelling when I wasn't that bothered by it."

"You're really good at modelling though, Ann," Shiho replies, her voice soft and encouraging. "I've been keeping an eye out for any photos you have in your new shoots, and I think you're getting better and better with your poses."

Ann looks honestly pleased, her face smiling wide. "You think so, Shiho? Thanks," Ann blushes, playing with one of her long twin-tails. "I've seen just how you've been working really hard, and I wanted to work hard with you. You and Mika and Akira… You're all so strong. I feel like I have to work hard to catch up!"

Shiho's smile falters a little then, the pause lingering between them for a bit too long before she latches onto another topic.

"You mention this Akira a lot," she teases. "Is he a new crush I sense… Oh, Akechi-kun!"

Shiho interrupts herself when she notices him in the doorway, and Ann also turns around in surprise.

"My sincere apologies for disrupting your time with your friend, Suzui-san. It's nice to meet you again, Takamaki-san," Akechi bows to them both from the doorway. "I understand that it isn't my normal visiting times, but I've found that I may be too busy to visit on Wednesday like usual, Suzui-san, so I was hoping to catch you now."

"It's fine, Akechi-kun," Shiho replies, as easy-going as usual. "You usually only stay for half-an-hour anyway, and I think it was time for Ann to get some lunch. Don't look at me like that," Shiho playfully whacks Ann's hand. "You've been here since morning, get some food!"

Ann doesn't look that put out at all for having her visit cut short, getting up with a smile on her face.

"I've heard how you're helping Shiho out by taking her on, Akechi-kun," she says as she passes him. "Thanks for that! I'll come back in half an hour, okay?"

"Mhmm," Shiho replies, waving Ann out. When she's safely out of sight and Akechi has entered, closing the door behind him, Shiho lets out a large breath of relief. Her smile drops into something much more neutral, as she frowns, massaging her head.

"Is anything the matter, Suzui-san?" Akechi asks, and Shiho shakes her head.

"No, it's nothing big," Shiho replies, her smile faint as she looks at him, shrugging. "It's just… silly."

"Nothing is silly if it bothers you, Suzui-san," Akechi replies smoothly, putting his attaché case onto the floor and getting ready the documents and equipment. "Besides, I'm bound by confidentiality for whatever you choose to tell me, and I'm not required to put everything I hear on paper."

Shiho giggles a little, adjusting the pillows behind her to make herself more comfortable as she looks at him.

"Akechi-kun, are you offering to be a helpful ear?"

"Perhaps, Suzui-san, though you don't have to take the offer." The Detective Prince smile gentles a little, as Akechi shows more sympathy. It's not as if he needs to fake the feeling – Shiho Suzui's situation is unprovoked and unfortunate, and Shiho tilts her head. "In my line of work, I do understand the value of a neutral party in discussions."

 _"Discussions,"_ Shiho repeats to herself, laughing. "You speak so formally, Akechi-kun. Are you sure you're in high school like the rest of us?"

"Perhaps it's because I hang around in the company of adults for the majority of my time barring school," Akechi returns, shrugging slightly. He sets up the recorder, making sure to show Shiho that it wasn't on record.

"Well, I do appreciate your offer, Akechi-kun," Shiho says after she's finished, sinking back into her bed. "It's really just a small thing, really. Just, I find…"

She trails off while Akechi finishes taking out his notebook and pencil, and he waits, pen unmoving.

"Ann keeps telling me I'm strong," Shiho admits, "but I don't really feel like it most days. Ann is trying her best you know? She's trying out modelling and finding a passion from it, and I'm so happy to see that. Ann has always struggled with finding motivation, so to see her working so hard… But then here I am, wanting to encourage her and no matter how I try I feel like my smiles don't come from the bottom of my heart."

Shiho stretches her face into a smile before it quickly breaks into a grimace.

"Ann is my best friend, and I can't even face her properly," Shiho says, her hands clenching into the blankets. "It doesn't help that my parents treat me like glass nowadays. They're super apologetic and regretful, and Ann at least tries to treat me like normal, but she's trying so hard too, to make me happy. And I just can't. I can't smile sometimes, I can't give her even a happy word sometimes, and I just wonder what's _wrong_ with me. She's one of the most important people in my life, and I can't even feel happy when I see her. I've never been this way before, not even when I was facing daily practice."

Shiho's face is frustrated, and Akechi crosses his legs to attract her attention without intruding into her silence.

"Suzui-san, have you talked to any professionals about this?"

Shiho laughs a little hollowly. "Yes. There's a trauma specialist that comes in a few times a week, alongside a psychiatrist. They want to give me a little more time first before making any conclusions, and I agree. Maybe I do need just a little more time, reflecting on… everything."

Akechi puts down his pencil, debating a little when he opens his mouth.

"Suzui-san… would you mind if I interject with a little of my opinion?"

"Please go ahead, Akechi-kun," Shiho replies, and Akechi leans backwards. He tries to channel some of the energy of people he knew who were more sincere than he was – Hikaru's smile, Atsuzawa's honest tone of voice. Wakaba's laugh, Minato's understanding eyes. He tries to emulate the lack of hesitation of Akira's helping hand as he asks.

"Do you feel angry sometimes, Suzui-san? Alongside the sadness, and otherwise."

Shiho takes a moment, before she nods.

"Perhaps some days feel like they go on forever," Akechi continues, "while some other days the world feels meaningless even when you wake up, even though it's filled with the people you love trying their best to reach you."

"Sometimes it's hard to breathe when I wake up," Shiho says quietly, and Akechi subsides to listen. "While sometimes I wake up and it's the easiest thing to think I'll get my legs to work again, I'll go back to volleyball like nothing happened, sometimes I don't even want to breathe. Even though I know Kamoshida is in jail now, and I know you're working hard to keep him behind bars for as long as possible. Even though Ann is trying her best to motivate me by saying we're working hard together, I just can't…"

"Suzui-san... I'm hardly a professional. But I wish to say that no matter what you think, there's nothing wrong with you."

Shiho looks up at Akechi, breaking her chain of thought as something obviously amusing flashes through her mind.

"So waking up feeling like an elephant is sitting on me is normal, Akechi-kun?"

"Yes," Akechi responds seriously. He tucks some of his hair behind his ear before picking up his pencil again, balancing his notepad on his knee. He still makes a point not to write, however, as he feels the pencil through the thin leather of his gloves. "You keep asking whether there is something wrong with you, but there isn't, Suzui-san."

Shiho is intent, listening, and Akechi therefore continues. He's heard enough psychological theory just from Wakaba, years ago, but more so…

"You've survived from an extraordinarily difficult situation, Suzui-san. Anyone would be affected by such an experience if only to try and understand why such an experience occurred in the first place. The problem lies in the fact that there are often few sane reasons why any criminal would enjoy the crimes they commit, and therefore rationalisations often never come to a satisfying conclusion. At most, we conclude that there are just… human trash out there who care less about the wellbeing of others in comparison to feeding their own amusement or agenda."

His own gun, gleaming on his table next to his homework.

"I see what you mean," Shiho says, eyes sympathetic and understanding. "Me and Ann followed your articles because you were cute, you know? You started detective work in your first year… You must have seen many victims, right?"

"Yes," Akechi concedes, smile a little wry. "But furthermore, I've noticed that many are quick to try and dismiss negativity as something else. Rage, apathy, sadness – many like to take emotions like these as problems with your character and the like, just like you implied, Suzui-san. But I must say in my experience that these are in fact, not a reflection of your character."

"They feel like it, sometimes," Shiho replies, and Akechi laughs. There might be a little too much honesty in there because Shiho has an interested look on her face, a curiosity muted by politeness that he ignores.

"Yes, it does, doesn't it? But it's not, Suzui-san. Your emotions are the result of your experiences, your thoughts, your rationalisation as you reflect on what's happened to you. That they are primarily negative, that they take a lot out of you is only natural right now. The fact that you're fighting to understand them means they're not defining you."

"Don't reject myself?" Shiho says thoughtfully, and Akechi quirks his smile into something a little more honest.

"Something like that," he replies, and Shiho laughs a little.

"Thank you, Akechi-kun. I think… that will make me feel better when I can't face Ann and I tell myself that… It's okay. Even though she's so important. Even though she deserves so much better, I…"

"It's alright, Suzui-san." Akechi replies, Detective Prince face back on as he flicks the pencil between his fingers. "I'm sure you're sick of people telling you this, but it is perfectly fine to take your time."

"Even for police statements?" Shiho teases him a little, and Akechi raises a mock eyebrow.

"Well, I've agreed to keep your secrets, Suzui-san. So even if you delay your statement, I can only cover your tracks," Akechi replies smoothly, and for now, it seems like Shiho was able to shake off a little of the strange mood that he entered as she raises a hand to hide a small laugh.

"Thank you, Akechi-kun. I've cut into your time a lot though, and Ann will come back soon. Should we start?"

That day they only go through two of the questions Akechi required before the nurse was knocking on the door for Shiho's lunch, and Akechi noticed the time and they both laugh, Shiho's high-pitched, Akechi's a little practiced.

"I truly am so sorry, Akechi-kun," Shiho says as he gets up to leave, and Akechi shrugs.

"It's alright. Perhaps I will be able to come by on Wednesday if I can make time," Akechi grimaces. "It might be a little difficult though."

Sae had a trial that he had to go to, for his plan to intercede in the Director's plans to work, and he never knew whether trials would be delayed or extended and such. Courts had always been nightmare to plan around when trying to manage his time.

"That's alright. Come by anytime, I mean it," Shiho replies, eyes crinkling into a smile.

Akechi bows as he leaves the room, Shiho interacting with her nurse as they prepare her room for a meal and her later rehabilitation. It's to his surprise that he finds Ann Takamaki crouched right outside the door, hands holding two cans of juice from a vending machine just around the corner. She's clenching them tightly, eyes bordering on red, and Akechi immediately understands.

"You heard everything, didn't you, Takamaki-san?" He asks, stepping around the door so that Shiho couldn't see him, and Ann doesn't respond for a second before she nods.

"God, I'm such a horrible friend," Ann says, scrubbing her face in her sleeve. "I didn't even notice Shiho was struggling with something like this, just babbling on and on about the things I was doing to try catch up to her."

Akechi's pleasant face does not crack as he crouches in front of these two troublesome friends. Because truly, the simplest solution was just to,

"Talk to her, Takamaki-san," he says. "If you both are truly as close as you say, I'm sure Suzui-san will only appreciate hearing your feelings as well."

When Ann rises, Akechi does too. He's prepared to bow and walk away, maybe give a few pleasantries, but he's wholly unprepared when Ann gives one last scrub of her face before diving in to give him a large hug.

"Thank you for being there for Shiho," Ann mutters into his coat, squeezing him tight, before she lets go and goes straight into Shiho's room with a bright smile on her face.

**Temperance Rank 2 – Shiho Suzui**  


* * *

  
Palaces have always been par on course, with the name, destination and keyword easily found. Akechi wasn't bad at guessing on what distorted desires usually became. Their language, how people acted, spoke, ordered, held themselves. All of these were good indicators of what they saw themselves as, what their desire was.

But for the rest of the day he found he couldn't accurately guess Hinata Osumi's Palace Keyword.

He has her name. He even had the destination, her apartment.

But the keyword was none of what he guessed. It wasn't a club, a gallery, an auction house, an auditorium, or even a hotel, like the one she worked at.

After half a dozen other queries, Akechi frowns.

"Osumi-san," he tries again, but there's no answer when he knocks the door.

He returns empty-handed, deep in thought.  


* * *

  
It's surprisingly easy to find Saito's name when he makes a quick search at school one long afternoon when he's catching up with some homework. Lunchtime had always stretched too long, in Akechi's opinion, and after ten minutes of his schoolmate's chatter he pretended to forget something at the library and left.

Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic seats near a few of the more studious students preparing for their mock exams at their cram schools, Akechi had pulled out his laptop and researched enough notes to get by – his third year assignments were, although a little hazier in his memory now, still predictable in nature from his first time through – and after a quick glance at the time, he typed in Saito's name in a general search.

A few articles popped up here and there. There's was a famous actress called Ise Saito, her various social media accounts dominating the first page. When he focused on non-entertainment news however, there were already a few articles hitting news archives.

One of them caught his eye. There's a grainy photograph attached to it, scanned relatively badly that is still recognisable all the same. The headline is written for shock-factor, as most of these things are, and the highlighted details are shocking all the same.

_[TRAGIC CHAIN OF VIOLENCE VISITS FAMILY OF FOUR]_

There, holding a boy's hand smiling next to a man and a woman, is Saito-san looking a decade and a half younger.

Akechi skims the article for key details.

_[Neighbours heard a loud sound in the early evening last Tuesday… 'A gunshot in our neighbourhood is unheard of!' says a witness… There had been prior reports of domestic violence before this disaster… After the mother of one was reportedly bashed repeatedly against the wall before her son's eyes… The man was shot three times, and the grandmother living with them confessed her guilt to the police immediately when they arrived saying she acted in self-defence…]_

The account is brief, the language informative if given to a few dramatics here and there, and Akechi stops there.

None of his Arcana had truly been normal. The Phantom Thieves were self-explanatory, let alone Wakaba, Atsuzawa, Fusa.

But Saito-san, having such a storied past?

He doesn't know whether he is lucky or unlucky that he had agreed to return a few containers to Saito that day, and perhaps his face is doing something slightly odd, because Saito is gently enquiring when she greets him.

"I… found an article when I was researching, Saito-san," Akechi starts, reminding himself that honesty had always been a key factor in driving up Arcana. "From the 2000s," he adds, "that held a story about your family."

Saito's eyes widen, before she hunches her shoulders a little.

"Oh, yes. That was quite a big story, back then. I… understand if you don't want to make my acquaintance anymore, Akechi-kun," she replies, and Akechi shakes his head.

"I understand that many will hold apprehensions about someone holding a criminal past, but that will not be me. One of my best friends were accused of an assault they did not commit, and he suffers discrimination by the day." Akechi looks at Saito, the woman who had insisted on telling him he was good, who always tried to give Akechi anything extra she could give, and finds... he honestly wishes to understand. "I would never judge without listening to your story first, Saito-san."

"Oh," Saito says, eyes wide, before the immediately fall into fondness. "And here you are, Akechi-kun, trying to insist that you're not kind. Well… come in if you want to hear my perspective," Saito asks kindly. "Don't worry if you think I'll be angry at you for stumbling onto this. People have always been bored enough to watch the bad news of others as entertainment, and I believe in you. It's just… I might be a little long-winded." She laughs a little, self-deprecating. "Would you mind listening to an old person's ramblings?"

Akechi follows her into the house, his smile left behind for something more serious.

"Of course I won't mind, Saito-san. I was the one who brought it up in the first place."

"Thank you, Akechi-kun," Saito smiles, pouring out two cups of tea before waving him to his cushion at the low table on the back porch, right underneath the wind-chime.

Then she takes a small moment. Breathes in.

"Do you mind if I start from the beginning?" Saito asks, and Akechi shakes his head. Saito smiles at him before she turns back into herself.

"You've noticed the photographs in my office, right? They're… of happier times. Sometimes when I'm sitting in the office alone, or when I'm sitting on my back porch remembering those happier times, I feel just how much you can't grasp back time," Saito starts, tucking her fingers around her ceramic teacup, staring back at the small sliver of her own reflection staring back. White hair, sunken eyes, wrinkles and loose skin and the bones underneath that had been whittled away over the years to become weak and fragile.

"Our neighbourhood is old, Akechi-kun," Saito says, calmly, near placidly. The wind-chime above them rings a lonely chime. "I grew up here after moving from the countryside after my mother decided to get a city job. It was just after the war, you see, and both my older brother and my father enlisted for the country. My father never made it back, and though my brother did he was never the same. I moved here in… 1949, when I just turned sixteen, and we bought this house with my father's compensation money. My mother, me, my sister and my brother, all living in this small house."

Her voice has a melancholy fondness to it as she takes a sip of tea, letting the steam billow on her face for a moment before she sighs. "My mother took employment as a cleaning maid in one of the richer mansions up north, and my sister started work as a receptionist straight out of high-school. So it was usually me and my brother at home – I would be the one working the stove, cooking with all these new utensils being sold in the market after I finished school, listening to the radio that once played patriotic songs were suddenly filled with critical commentary and how great our market was after we opened our shores to America."

Akechi listens quietly on the side, sat perfectly still on the cushion opposite her to the low table watching Saito as she became slightly more bowed. She wasn't looking at Akechi at all, sitting herself to face her well-tended garden. Many of her plants were healthy and verdant, though half of them were pruned and trimmed in to make the most out of spring growth.

"My brother committed suicide in 1952, and it wasn't a surprise to any of us," Saito says, "though back then there wasn't much we knew to do. A lot of other families were facing the same problem, and mental health was always such a private thing. We didn't have a name for what we saw back then, for his nightmares, for his anger and outbursts and guilt. He couldn't keep a job even though he tried to apply, the first year or so, and I think that's what crushed him most. Whenever I came home from school he'd just be lying on our porch, smoking, a rumpled newspaper behind him and the radio nearly always turned onto a pop music channel."

Saito pauses, her eyes tracing something only she remembers in the view in front of her. A man, perhaps, scarred and distant, lying on his side flipping a newspaper with the smell of tobacco in the air. The both of them listening to a crackly radio crooning love songs as she chopped vegetables in the kitchen. "Akechi-kun… I've always regretted not being able to help him. What if I had done more than place a few blankets on him when he forgot himself and fell asleep on the floor? What if I had asked him what had happened when he went to China?"

"But I digress," Saito stops herself there, tilting her head towards Akechi without truly looking at him. "I was trying to explain that my brother was one of the reasons why I chose to go into social work. I finished high school and saved my way up to finish the required diplomas and certificates, and off I went for the next thirty years. I met a wonderful man who became my husband, Tomoya Saito, who was an accountant for a non-profit company that helped veteran affairs. As an only son, his father gave him a few buildings he owned after he died and we lived a comfortable life raising our children."

There are many family photos on the wall of Saito's office, though they're mostly coloured and modern, taken in the 2000s perhaps.

On the side table of Saito's bedroom, however, there had been one black-white photograph of a smiling woman sitting on a chair, a distinguished looking man in a suit standing behind her with a subdued smile of his own.

"Tomoya died when my daughter turned twenty," Saito explains. "We didn't realise his back pain was pancreatic cancer until it was too late, and he didn't live long enough to see Masako get married. Hayao was a reformed alcoholic, cured himself for five years, and Masako invited me to live with them when I started having trouble with too many stairs. So I visited their house, once in a while, to live. Masako couldn't have children, you see, so she adopted instead. The next few years passed quietly. Minoru went to school, Masako stayed at home as a housewife. I was still taking cases as a social worker when I could, and Hayao had a steady office job. It was great until… Hayao lost his job."

"For someone whose literal job is to see the warning signs, I can never regret more that I didn't see the signs in my own child. I'm sure you read what happened, Akechi-kun. I'm sure you can see… my failure. I wonder what type of hell Masako must have thought herself trapped in, to not even reach out to her own mother. Was she shackled by love? By duty?"

Saito's eyes drip with tears that she dabs at with a handkerchief she takes from her pocket. It's doesn't seem like it's a visceral grief – her voice doesn't shake much, her demeanour, her facial expression has also held more stoic than one who was breaking down. But she's crying, nonetheless, as she continues.

"Choei has never visited me after he left the house," Saito says. "It had always only been Masako who tried to involve me in her life. So without her, I…"

Saito looks up at Akechi, making sure to dab her eyes before doing so.

"I'm sorry, Akechi-kun, for burdening you with all of this. But… now that I think about it, I haven't visited Masako for a few weeks. Would you like to go with me next time?"

Akechi's mind is calm, eyes quiet.

There is something he wonders.

"Of course, Saito-san." He smiles, stretching his face genuine. Gentle, and understanding. "Tell me when you're ready, and I'll make time."

**Sun Rank 6 - Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  
Akechi speaks into his phone.

"Hinata Osumi. Hinata Osumi's Apartment."

They both successfully enter, and the Meta-Nav app only waits for the Keyword.

Akechi breathes in and takes a guess.

_"Hell."_

[Beginning Navigation], the app replies.

The world warps as the small tile barrier barring the entrance to the apartments in front of him melts into a high, jagged stone wall, cracked in enough places to see that beyond the wall the apartment building had disappeared, forming a perfectly circular pit in the ground instead. It yawns, large and empty, a void that swallows darkness itself. The world has become night with a singular, red full moon looming down over the expanse.

The Tokyo buildings behind him are mostly intact, even though all the windows have been plastered with drawings of eyes, dozens, hundreds, thousands of open eyes staring out and down at him.

Hinata's vision of social judgment, Akechi guesses, tucking all emotions in his heart when he faces the wall in front of him.

It isn't too hard to wedge his hands and feet into the cracked wall and climb, reaching the top in a few minutes. He perches there, looking down at the circular void in front of him. At first glance, it seemed his surroundings held no clues as to how he could proceed downwards. The walls of the circular pit seemed completely smooth, a drop down to unknown depths that Akechi couldn't see. When he dropped a chunk of rock down he doesn't hear a response even after a few minutes, and Akechi grows solemn, drumming his gauntleted fingers against the stone he's balancing on.

This, Akechi thinks, calculative, will be an extremely difficult Palace.  


* * *

  
There's a large reading down by a residential, slightly poorer side of Shinjuku, and Futaba's eyes are wide when she simultaneously blocks the signal from reaching Kirijo, checks for the kinda-nice Akira Kurusu (ew, he's on the public phone in LeBlanc calling that maid again, _boys_ , gosh, she hopes GA isn't like a secret pervert too). She then quickly checks the others – Kamoshida Victim A and B are both in their houses, by the look of their phones, and that Madarame student was still at school slaving on his art.

She's learnt the trends, over the years. GA always goes to Shibuya on Sunday to enter some sort of Palace there, but Shibuya is so crowded it's impossible to track one person coming and going.

Once a month or so, there's a reading elsewhere. A smaller reading usually means GA ever only visits once before leaving.

A larger one means maybe once, maybe twice, before he doesn't appear again.

A large reading like this?

GA would often frequent the location, going in again and again. Bakakami and Futaba had both guessed – probably the larger the reading, the more difficult the dungeon.

But they had been unlucky so far. The last large reading had been in the very depths of Shibuya, filled with people always coming and going, and despite Futaba's very best efforts she couldn't find someone remotely like GA at the times they recorded his presence.

The last few months had mainly been small readings – small dungeons, where he came and went once.

But this time. _This_ time it was a large reading, and the spot, Futaba quickly draws it up, it's practically _isolated_. No-one liked going there, residential and old compared to the shiny shopping streets just a street down from there.

And, Futaba eyes Akira Kurusu, who has finished inviting the maid to LeBlanc and was waiting around talking to his cat (she really didn't get it) she had a way in. GA didn't seem to have powers to bring her in with him, but Akira Kurusu obviously does. He's brought Victim A and B, as well as that artist.

Her heart beat super-fast, hands shaking as she brings up whatever feed she could get and manages, just a glimpse, of a silhouette.

She got him.

She's finally got him.  


* * *

  
"Hey, Akira! Guess what, your recommendation was great!" Futaba Sakura has not grown much in height, though she seems much less awkward and much more open as they walk down the alleyways of Akihabara, into the largest otaku shop he's ever seen. There are walls and walls of figures, and Futaba is snickering to herself. "Man, having a paying job is so nice! I can finally pay for these now!"

"Do you even have space?" Akira asks with amusement, and Futaba turns and sticks out her tongue at him.

"I don't care even if it turns out that I don't! Anyway, it turns out Maruki was a big fan of my mom's research too," Futaba continues speaking, "so it's perfect that he's going to join my lab for some cool cognitive psience research! We've been cooking around some hot ideas in the lab lately, and it's all thanks to you!"

"I'm glad my recommendation worked out," Akira replies, hands in his pockets as he trails behind Futaba. He didn't really care that much about figures, really, despite knowing both Iwai and Futaba and have listened on in their way-too-in-depth conversations about paint and types of plastics. "You needed someone with psience knowledge, Maruki needed a job, so."

"Mwehehe!" Futaba laughs. "Yup! I needed one more person on the team before Kirijo would approve my grant. Speaking of which, when are you going to visit LeBlanc again? Sojiro misses you, you know?"

"I was there on Monday," Akira points out, and Futaba pouts.

"Well, two days is too much! You should come every day! I don't understand how you can live without eating curry every day either, you weirdo." Futaba pokes him in the ribs, but Akira dodges with the ease of familiarity,

"I'm glad that university treated you well," Akira says after a few moments of silence between then, as Futaba agonised over a Featherman R Hawk, or a limited edition of a figure inspired by the manga Featherman: Rise from the Ashes, and Futaba tilts her head.

"Well, it was hard, but Kana-chan is doing HR in the building right beside mine, so we can meet up for lunch and stuff a lot easier! And we've both made a lot of friends, and I actually found so many geeky people in the anime club that I realised that… it wasn't so scary after all!"

Akira only feels affection when he messes up Futaba's long hair, and Futaba doesn't even try to look upset when she grins up at him.

"I'm going to have the best tale to tell mom now when I pray to her picture! She's going to be so proud of me establishing my own lab too. I'm going to publish all the papers she never could because she died so young."

"You've grown up," Akira replies fondly, and Futaba blinks her eyes up at him.

"Of course," Futaba nods, ribbing him. "I'm as cool as a mildly anxious cucumber, but now I think I've finally learned object permanence twenty years too late, because when I get scared… all I have to remember that you and Sojiro will always be here for me. Even if I can't see you, you'll be there when I call, and that helps. Helps a lot, hehe."

Just for that, Akira doesn't protest when Futaba ultimately decides to buy both thirty-centimetre tall figures, even though he knows that she'll regret it the moment she realises she has, indeed, stuffed the whole cabinet full with figures and Sojiro had banned her from placing figures all over the house because 'their eyes are creepy, Futaba."

"We think we can get involved in a super cool experiment Kirijo is planning too," Futaba bounces with her shopping bags in hand, her eyes sparkling as she thinks of her plans. "Well, more Maruki anyway. He knows all about Personas and stuff now, under confidentiality contract, of course. The Kirijo labs are actually working on an experiment to see if they can awaken Personas in some select people even in This world, Akira! Isn't that cool?"

Akira frowns, something not feeling quite right with the thought.

"Why?"

"Because Personas have great potential and application, of course!" Futaba replies, still swinging her bags back and forth despite the crowds that they were starting to weave through as they entered back into the supermarket main. "We know so little about them, you know? Anyway, they think they found a safe way to do it, and they also think they can detect who has the potential. And guess what?"

"What?" Akira echoes, knowing that if he didn't feed Futaba at least some reaction she would get all pouty again.

Sure enough, she beams.

"Maruki got selected!" She says, proud of her research assistant as if it was her chosen instead. "He's going to go through several more tests, but they think he can be in the first batch to see if they can awaken his Persona! I'm so excited to see what's inside the mind of someone so affably friendly as that guy!"

Futaba giggles a little evilly.

"I bet there's totally something evil in there, just like how the underside of Haru's skirt is filled with RAGING HOT GUNS. Maybe it'll be a large teddy bear that shoots lasers from his eyes! Maybe it's a tentacle porn monster! I can't wait!"

"Alright," Akira replies, bemused as they wait in the taxi line. "I understand. I'm glad everything's working out."

"Fufufu, of course!" Futaba Sakura grins, cheerful and open. She's standing in the sun surrounded by crowds, relaxed in her casual clothes and standing confident. His little sister, who doesn't show a sign of all the struggles she went through to finally get here, comfortable in her own skin. "Don't underestimate the great Futaba Sakura!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shevcha drew a beautiful (the colouring and effort needed >__<) fanart animated with colour and some music inspired by that scene where Akechi and Akira are being dorks eating dorayaki in the countryside and thank you so much, shevcha! Its stunning! Why are you guys so talented? Gosh, I need more Akeshu fluff in my life and I'm the writer GODDAMN  
> Please check it out if you wish =>  
> https://twitter.com/yessmocking/status/1294539447426482177?s=19
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is a little draggy, but Saito's Arcana is actually going to be revealed and finished quite soon. Hers is plotty right now, but she has a Lot to Say next chapter and welp. I wanted to add more, but it's super late and I'll just cut what I wanted to do (Sae/a bit of Jose/an akira scene to break it up/more shiho/ann) next chapter leave on that Futaba note, haha. On both Futaba notes, actually, for both the Dream (which well, yes) and Futaba herself (she's finally caught him, oho). I'm going to edit this as much as I can during the week, and hopefully that'll make it smoother. uwu
> 
> Thank you for your kind comments and kudos! I love seeing you guys, reoccurring or once-off or a sometimes visitor, and also the ones that more and more often who I see burn through all thirty chapters at once and wow, guys, be careful of your sleep schedule, ok? Thank you for enjoying it (you feed me. and my motivation. and my will to live after work) but your health is important! Esp in these times, keep safe *hugs*  
> And sometimes crap, you guys are so intelligent. I forgot to mention this cos there's so many great guesses and ideas, but one that stands out to me was the chapter before, 29? Someone caught that the worldlines was actually foreshadowed all the way back in chap 13 when minato is talking about how he looks into worlds instead of messing wholly with time and i was like HOLY CRAP I thought no-one would ever catch that, i mean i wouldn't if i was the reader, oh gosh, and there's so many other examples. :D 
> 
> (I splurged and bought the velvet room battle dlc for royal and holy crap, minato is. so good looking? that yawn? is so cute? i have a soft spot for emo 2000s haircuts and if only there was a p3 port on the p5 engine aaaaaaa)  
> (pls don't judge how i have a whole featherman canon in my head like, its seriously no joke pls kill my brain)


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, domestic violence description in chap

"Masako, I'm sorry I haven't visited you for a few weeks," Saito says as they arrive at the church, silent and mostly empty. 

June dawns with a day that was surprisingly cleared because an investigation request finished quickly. With the few hours after school now empty, Akechi thought for a moment on what he could do before checking on Saito whether she was free.

After an affirmative, Akechi had accompanied Saito through train changes and congested walkways as they made their way to Kanda, walking slowly next to her as she hauled herself up stairs with a long-held familiarity. Many didn't care to keep walking behind her, wishing to brush past only to be blocked by Akechi's stubborn gait as they strolled out of step with the other more rushed commuters. They kept enjoyable conversation on the train as they stood, swaying, Saito sharing what she'd been doing that morning. Nothing much, she says with a wry smile, but she did make a bouquet of flowers from her garden. There is a thin bouquet sticking out from her bag, carefully wrapped in tissue paper and tied together with a rubber band, and Akechi smiles and nods, keeping the atmosphere as pleasant as he knew how.

There's a hill they need to climb to get to the church, and they arrive in front of its doors with Saito out of breath, her grip deceptively tight on Akechi's forearm where he'd offered it halfway up the slope. He says nothing of it as they head inside, the pastor greeting them with a smile.

"I know you wouldn't have left me alone for so long. But I'm sure you wouldn't even wait for me to ask for forgiveness," Saito continues with her usual genial cheer. "You'd just give me that happy wide smile of yours and brush it under the table, wouldn't you? Always my sunshine girl," Saito says with infinite affection, taking the bouquet out from her bag and placing it carefully on the podium before retreating to a pew.

They sit in silence, Saito with her eyes shut as she says some private words. Akechi doesn't intrude. He lets himself look around the place instead – the pastor, who has taken the flowers with a kind smile and placed them in a nearby vase. He observes the coloured light from the lone stained-glass window in front that dapples the concrete wall on the side, the gentle rainbow cast softening the bright day outside into something welcoming and warm.

The church itself is cool against his skin, showing its age through the slight dust on its walls, the fading lines on the paintings kept on display depicting different scenes that would surely hold more weight if Akechi was religious.

"Akechi-kun," Saito says when she finally opens her eyes, voice soft in the air, and Akechi turns, attentive. Her eyes are trained on the large podium. "Whenever I sit at home with my balls of yarn, or when I'm sitting in my office, looking out the same window day in, day out… I wonder if the past is supposed to be left there. To be forgotten, never to be revisited. I don't try to think these things," Saito admits, and somehow her voice doesn't echo even though the place only held the pastor, reading over some books at the front, and a couple behind them whispering to one another. "But thoughts like these do come in sometimes."

"I overheard you saying that we shouldn't be defined by the past once," Akechi says, remembering that time he caught Saito at the hospital advising that confident-looking career woman, and Saito huffs a laugh.

"Yes, we are all beings who live in the present," Saito agrees. "The past is a building block, but ultimately we should always make decisions on what the situation is now. We shouldn't be shackled by who someone was if they have transformed to become negative influencers. We should always face the next day with as much positivity as we can, surrounded by people we love. I do say that a lot," Saito's eyes crease as she smiles, turning towards Akechi a little more, though still not quite meeting his eyes. "What do you think of it, Akechi-kun?"

Akechi hums, resting his eyes on the rainbow beams of light in front of them. The majority is purple, pink and blue, with a few panes of green and orange and red in smaller panels that broke up the white light into jewel-tones. A flash of darkness sometimes, from a bird flitting by.

"It's good advice, but it's difficult," is what Akechi offers into the solemn serenity that surrounded them. "As you've stated before, we are built from our past experiences. Our thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and desires; all of them are defined by what we experienced in our past. That's without discounting the role of other people in shaping our past identity. We are who we are in the present undeniably because of the people we've known, and continue to know." Akechi pauses, trying to deal with the uncomfortable weight of sincerity. "As you've told me before, Saito-san, we exist through the mind of others. That doesn't only apply in the concept of fame. We are human," Akechi says as he's reminded of another night, a bright smile over a bowl of ramen, "when we care for something. When we have relationships and desires. When we are seen and weighed and found to exist. Disconnecting from someone who has given your life weight and meaning for years is…"

Akechi trails off, his own eyes dipping because it is a tired thought by now, to think of what he could've been if he was less of the spiteful, petty person that he still, in some way, is. One part of him will always be the child trying to get his mother down before giving up and calling the police. One part of him will always spit at Shido whenever he forced another woman to his bed, fingers digging into gloves with bile in his throat.

_Keep that fire burning. Keep it burning, or you'll grow numb._

"Akechi-kun, I hope you aren't disappointed when you hear that I'm an old hypocrite," Saito replies, her eyes on the small bouquet of flowers that now stands in an old clay vase. "I try reaching out to Minoru nearly every week, and he only ever replies in vague affirmations. I try my best to believe in him even though I know he has been avoiding me for years now. Every time I call, I try my best to not think of my own advice. Because I know, Akechi-kun," Saito says, her voice still holding that benign cheer, that unaffected, accepting tone, "what Minoru thinks me as. I tell others to cut ties, to avoid negative relationships while I cling to my own grandson who is trying to cut me off to live his own life. I don't blame him if he wishes to forget. Forget what happened with Masako, with Hayao. With me."

Saito closes her eyes, resigned.

"Did I tell you I have a son too, Akechi-kun? Choei has always been the rebellious type, unlike Masako, only ever listening to Tomoya. My husband always had a way with words, that silly gentle man," Saito says with a flicker of humourous affection, "and when he died he took Choei with him too. I try my best not to blame him for it. Grief is... hard, even for an old lady like me, and I understand why he left me and my old ideas to focus on his own family and life. It's only natural to prioritise his own work when we all know I'm just fine living alone, I thought. I didn't want to intrude when he was taking care of Minoru for me."

When Akechi moves to speak, face in a frown, Saito shakes her head to let her to continue. The pews they sit on leech out heat, cold, solid wood, hard and oddly grounding even through the gentle rustle of pages from the pastor reading in the front.

"My neighbour who died a few years ago once asked me an intriguing question," Saito continues whimsically, folding her hands into her sleeves. "He asked – Ise, do you ever wonder? If you were the last person in the world, would you be human anymore? You'd have speech, but no-one to talk to. You'd have education, but no society to apply it to. You'd have hobbies, but no-one to show it to. Would you just be another animal then, with human just a label?"

"Naoki was one of the few people who were comfortable with being my close friend after Hayao and Masako," Saito smiles, "I knew exactly how people would react when they heard a violent case like that, so I was prepared, of course, but Naoki was the one who always reminded me to come here whenever the silence grew a little too much."

It's strange that Akechi understands when he inserts, "To Masako?"

"To Masako," Saito nods, expression unwavering. "Masako, and all the reasons why I don't want to give up on Minoru. That the past is not all painful," Saito says, tilting her head gently in an enquiry that Akechi doesn't know what to do with until wrinkled hands find his own. She pats one of his hands between hers, her expression filled with the optimism that he's always seen Saito face life with. "That we live in the present for the future."

A future, Akechi fills in, with the people you wish to be in it.

"I want to thank you, Akechi-kun," Saito says, grasping his hand in hers. "I… had been visiting Masako less before you started helping me."

It's a quiet admission that Akechi accepts with a blink, a quiet assessment of the small, slightly hunched back in front of him. He'd already thought, of course, of what would have happened if he hadn't defied Shido and been assigned to her dorms.

Her husband and daughter dead, her son estranged, her grandson refusing contact because of past trauma, her neighbours and few friends dying one by one with old age. Watching students come and go at the dorms, silently knitting in her house under the crackle of an old television. Giving advice at the hospital because of a life dedicated to giving that only ironically hurts herself, as she slowly justifies why her family leaves her be.

Slowly stopping her visits to Masako at the church. Resigning herself to fade away as a past relic from older times.

Akechi doesn't question what exactly about his presence changed Saito's mind as he slowly turns his hand and grasps Saito's hand back.

"Saito-san, do you remember that one morning where you found me in the common area?" Akechi asks, his eyes trained on a painting in front of them. A soft cheeked European lady, with closed eyes and dressed in soft clothes hugging a sleeping baby. "When you told me I could change?"

Saito's grip on his hand tightens.

"I do," Saito says, voice now holding an unspoken question, and Akechi laughs. A pleasant sound, just like how he'd practised dozens and dozens of times once in the past.

"I had failed to prevent something I knew would happen and nearly lost a friend who had believed in me," Akechi continues. "You probably guessed I was in a gang of some sort, right? You're not that off the mark," he says with a little chagrined humour. "I wondered many things that night, Saito-san, and not many were pleasant. I'm not as kind as you think I am. However, that morning you told me I could change. That I had already changed, through my actions alone."

Wakaba's blood, Shido's office, the building and the flames and the familiar, all-encompassing psychotic _anger_ that overtook him whenever he thought of Shido's smile, his expectation of his audience giving him a little pat-on-the-back for a job well done.

Crushing futility and Saito at the end of it, determined to get her point across. The smell of tea, weak morning sunshine.

"You saved me, Saito-san," Akechi admits to this old woman, who he realised had been just as alone as he had been when he'd lost Wakaba, when Atsuzawa was still a distant guide. When Akira was still unknowing, and he only had Minato as a reminder of goodness a universe away.

"Words I will always be willing to say, Akechi-kun," Saito says now. For the first time in his acquaintance with her, her voice is slightly congested, words coming out a little warped. She holds Akechi's hand tight. "Words I wish I could've said to Masako, to my brother. To you, any time you need to hear it. That there's light at the end of the tunnel," Saito continues, letting go of his hand for a moment to discreetly wipe her eyes with a handkerchief, and Akechi pretends not to notice when it's obvious Saito doesn't want to highlight they were there. "That there's always a chance for change. That I'll always be there if they need an ear, advice, and a helping hand."

She takes a tissue out of her bag, blowing her nose and folding it neatly afterwards.

"Thank you, Saito-san," Akechi offers after she's blown her nose a second time, and Saito whacks her hand gently against Akechi's shoulder.

"Stop, you'll make me teary again," she laughs, her ever-present smile reappearing on her face. It's, as always, genuine. But this time Akechi imagines that it's a little less shadowed, perhaps.

She pauses at the small trashcan at the doorway of the church, the pastor giving them the gentlest of smiles, a respectful nod to them both as they leave. Saito's hand had found his again with a strangely familial air and Akechi didn't feel the need to pull away just yet, the fragile bones gripping with surprising strength. He bends his elbow a little though, to support her balance as they head down the hill back to the station as she talks of lighter things, sharing some old anecdotes of the neighbourhood as they pass certain streets and Akechi.

Well. He listens, but also his mind drifts elsewhere.

Wakaba, Takaki. Any time he directly tries to influence what he knew, there had been a cost. Death seemed to have the largest consequences. He has no idea what condition Wakaba is in now, and the last he'd heard Takaki was doing his final stretches of rehabilitation.

Akechi's long determined to fight and change his own life, though now he lets himself truly wonder what his cost will be when he tries to change his own fate. He looks at the wrinkled hand gripping his.

There's more he can do, he knows. They're still a few ranks left in Saito's Arcana, after all.

So he asks, right as he's leaving Saito at the entrance to her home again.

"Saito-san, were you truly the one who shot the gun?"

Saito stiffens before she realises he's not genuinely asking. Her smile changes into something exasperated, eyebrows furrowed as she sighs.

"You are an intelligent boy, Akechi-kun," Saito replies without answering the question. "I understand why you would want to get to the bottom of this, as a detective and as a friend."

She pauses, thinking.

"I don't mind if you find out the truth," she ultimately says. "But please don't share it with anyone."

Akechi blinks, before he's smiling. His hunch was basically confirmed.

"I would never betray your trust, Saito-san."

**Sun Rank 7 – Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  


For these were the details of Saito's case when he searched up past police records. With the SIU Director and Shido on his side, his clearance was much higher than anyone would ever suspect.

On November the fifteenth, 2007, Hayao Yano went back home after drinking at 6:30 PM. His wife, Masako Yano, was at home cooking dinner in the kitchen, while their son, Minoru Yano was in the living room finishing his homework. There was also a frequent visitor, Ise Saito, Masako Yano's mother, who was coming home after visiting a retirement home two streets over.

The newspaper article had exaggerated – there had been no previous, officially filed domestic abuse reports. There had been incidents where neighbours had called in concern over particularly violent sounding fights, but Masako Yano had never pressed for any charges and denied any particular claims that were ever made against her husband. Later reports claimed that she, in majority, protected the issue from reaching both her mother and her son. Ise Saito's later statements held that she had trusted her daughter and was left unaware of the true extent of the situation, and Minoru Yano had refused to give an in-depth report.

When police arrived, dinner was still being cooked on the stove - a heavy saucepan half full with vegetables and a large pot of boiling soup, half spilled. Dinner had not been served when the violence started.

It is presumed from the injuries reported that such a scene happened.

Hayao Yano was reported to be a highly aggressive drunk. It is assumed that he provoked and accosted his wife the moment he stepped through the doorway, as the living room, kitchen and entryway share an open-plan design. Some time into the ensuing argument that rose into physical altercation, Minoru Yano tried to intervene. This should be where someone tipped over the pot of soup on the stove. Masako immediately tried to shield Minoru, generating the severe burns on her left side and arm and the slight patch on Minoru's right shoulder.

It is presumed that this is where Hayao Yano took advantage of his wife's weakness and started repeatedly bashing her head against the wall. By the extent of her injuries, this continued for some minutes until Ise Saito returned from her visit and arrived on scene. She immediately located the illegal firearm that Hayao Yano had hidden in his house and tried to intervene. When her efforts failed, she shot him with all three bullets inside the gun.

That was when neighbours called for the police. When the police arrived on scene at 6:50 PM, Hayao Yano was laid aside while Ise Saito had initiated first-aid to keep Masako Yano breathing. Minoru Yano was in his room, scared by the altercation.

Hayao died on scene, while Masako was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. She was announced dead on arrival.

The report quickly ends after this – investigations hadn't been deep because Saito had immediately confessed guilt, handed over the weapon in question, and stayed cooperative with the police throughout the whole process.

It would seem like a perfect end to the case if it weren't for a few key details.

One, Saito signed out of Sunny's Retirement Home at 6:15 PM. It generally took half an hour to walk back from the retirement home to Hayao and Masako's home address. Saito excused this by saying she had walked particularly fast that day, as she was worried she would miss dinner.

Second, Saito admitted that she didn't live in the premises often enough to understand that such abuse was happening, yet knew where the gun had been hidden. Saito explained that her daughter had once told her concerns about Hayao's past after she found his gun when cleaning the house.

Third, when Akechi examined the gunshot wounds that Hayao had, the shots were in decidedly odd places.

A shot in the lower stomach rupturing a kidney, one lodged into Hayao's left pelvis, and a shot through his upper thigh skimming an artery. Saito explained that when she intervened, Hayao had suppressed one of her arms so she had to shoot at an awkward angle. Even the investigator involved had made a note of how strange that was. The angle of the shots, if she had told the truth, would have meant that Hayao would've been contorted extremely strangely to make that statement true.

At Saito's insistence, with Minoru Yano adding a witness statement alongside the fact that Hayao had been extremely drunk and the encounter must have been highly dynamic, this aspect was brushed off as a minor particularity.

Akechi thinks however, comparing the shots, inserting figures and scenarios into the scene that he's only allowed through photos, that such shots would make perfect sense if the gun were held by a nine-year-old child standing a few paces back.

  


* * *

  


The SIU Director calls Akechi up to his office on a bright sunny day, portending the summer heat that will soon descend onto Tokyo in the next few weeks. The Director doesn't have the usual smile that he has on when he sees him, welcoming him in with a clap and a swivel of his chair.

"Good, good, Akechi. You're here. You've seen Madarame's confession on television, I'm sure," the Director says with his hands beneath his chin

"Yes, it was on air a few hours ago," Akechi replies, having sat through the shock of gossip from his fellow peers. A few who had been to his exhibition had been outraged that they were cheated of their money, another few more art-inclined students shocked that the rumours of Madarame's abuse had been true after all.

" _That_ person has said that you confirmed that these… Phantom Thieves of Heart are mostly likely students from Shujin Academy," the Director says, and Akechi nods professionally.

"Kamoshida had limited himself as an influencer by the time his change of heart occurred," Akechi says, echoing what he'd written in his reports for the past few weeks. "I've been in charge of investigating his past to see there would be any contenders who would gain powers that influence the Metaverse and immediately target Kamoshida, but all suspects seem highly unlikely. Only students stood to immediately gain from his confession. Adding to the fact that Kamoshida seems to most highly regret his actions at Shujin Academy and not any of his past infractions, it seems clear to say that it was a student who gained Metaverse powers and immediately targeted Kamoshida over his abuse."

"Do you know who?" The Director asks next, and Akechi shrugs.

"There are quite a few contenders, Director. I wouldn't be able to pinpoint individual names since I've been investigating Kamoshida's background."

"Other than the normal police detectives, I've requested a man inside Shujin Academy to provide me with results," the Director says, face folding into an annoyed frown. He adjusts his glasses, strong brows curving deeply over his eyes in displeasure. "It's one thing to have a no-name teacher be targeted, but it's another entirely to have someone like Madarame have a change of heart."

"Wasn't he one of Shido-san's minor sponsors?" Akechi asks, knowing the answer, and the SIU Director grunts.

"Yes, under that disposed noble that he values so much," the Director says with thinly veiled jealousy. As much as he didn't seem like it, the Director was a deeply envious man at heart, despite liking to talk with magnanimity. That was one of the reasons why Akechi had needed to give him a mental breakdown in the end, the Director genuinely falling hard for Shido's vision of the future. Shido had disliked how the Director saw them on equal footing – had wanted to be Shido's equal partner.

Akechi had watched on the sidelines how Shido had baited him with increasingly important tasks as the election neared. How the Director had been assured of his own importance even while Akechi had already mapped out his whole Palace a month prior, ready to take him down at a moments notice.

Pawns, all of them.

"Which reminds me – why did Ooka-san leave and Niijima-san take his place as prosecutor for the coma incidents, Director?" Akechi asks, and the SIU Director rolls his eyes, massaging the loose skin under his jaw as he talked.

"That troublesome woman was the only one who volunteered to take on the cases when Ooka-san's mother came down with something. What, is she being too nosey?"

"No, I was merely curious about the personnel change," Akechi shakes his head politely. "I wasn't informed by either you or Shido, after all, and I wished to double-check her background with you."

"Nothing except being a busy-body," the Director says dismissively again, mind obviously casted onto other matters as he looked out his windows to the bright spread of Tokyo outside buzzing with life in the first few days of summer. "She was in the office before you, in fact. Tried to insist on connecting Madarame's case with the coma incidents. I'm sure you can keep her in check."

Akechi smiles angelically, nodding.

Perfect. It meant he had some time before Sae would be seriously considered as bait. A month until Kaneshiro was dealt with and Shido proceeded with his plan to impersonate Medjed.

He can work with a month.

Akechi turns a considering eye on the Director, still mumbling to himself with plans on how to win Shido's favour and gain more of a promotion in the Conspiracy.

"Which reminds me, Director. I've been monitoring the more criminal members of our conspiracy, as you've instructed me to do," Akechi says. "I'm unsure if you're aware that Junya Kaneshiro has been extending the reach of his scams in Shibuya, recently."

" _That_ man," the Director says in disdain. There weren't many people who didn't warrant that tone, actually. "Yes, well. We'll continue monitoring his progress. If he doesn't comply to _his_ requests to control his public presence, then we may need to take action."

"I understand. Then, by your leave."

Akechi excuses himself, walking out of the SIU Director's neat office, filled with pristine legal books that he doubts the Director has ever glanced at.

The Director mentioned Sae had recently reported in, right?

Akechi glanced at his watch.

It's a good a time as any to meet up with her.

  


* * *

  


"Sae-san, I recommend choosing Yukimura's case over Fukumi's case."

In the quiet of the SIU Investigation Offices, although his voice wasn't particularly loud it's still unexpectedly jarring. Sae snaps the cases in her hands closed before she registers that it's Akechi reading over her shoulder. Then all she does is give him a reproving frown as she opens the pages back to where she was, taking in the details of the two cases again.

"Why do you say that, Akechi-kun? And don't do that again."

"My apologies, Sae-san," Akechi laughs pleasantly as he sits at his table, conveniently next to Sae's. "And my suggestions are made based on a few matters I've picked up alongside my investigations into Kamoshida's background."

Sae huffs out a short laugh, crossing her legs even while keeping her posture ramrod straight. There's not one strand of hair that's out of place when regarding Sae Niijima's professional image. Even at her most tired, Akechi has only ever seen her suit slightly rumpled, voice slightly slower as she took care to enunciate words carefully.

"You always look into too many things, Akechi-kun. Remember that we only investigate details that are related to our cases," Sae says. Even though her tone is harsh, Akechi knows her enough to see that Sae isn't truly scolding him, and Akechi laughs.

It was always good to accompany Sae's seriousness with more levity, just like how it had always been more efficient to balance Atsuzawa's laziness with pointed efficiency to guilt him into work.

"I can't promise it'll be the last time I accidentally stumble on something, but I recommended Yukimura's case because I've heard on the grapevine that Fukumi's case delves into multi-corporate and party collusion even though it looks like fraud, while Yukimura's case is a much less messy prosecution about a Senator's actual fraud scheme. I thought that since you have a post in our SIU regarding the coma cases, you would probably appreciate something that will both keep your record up while still being relatively simpler to investigate?"

Sae raises an eyebrow. "And where is the proof of these claims?"

When Akechi hands her a USB, Sae sighs and boots up her computer, plugging the USB in before clicking as Akechi directed into the relevant folder.

After a few minutes, Sae concedes.

"You're right, it does seem like Yukimura would be a better move for my career than Fukumi right now. I can let another investigator who has more time than me handle Fukumi. Thank you for telling me this, Akechi-kun."

"No worries, Sae-san," he says, his voice good-natured as he takes back the USB. "We all wish to do our best in regard to our cases, and giving you a heads up is just another way to help enact justice, isn't it?"

Sae has never been good at hiding her emotions, her eyes softening a little as she turns back to her desk. Her shoulders are more relaxed as she sweeps hair over her shoulder, voice tinged with a little nostalgia as she replies.

"It's… good that you still value justice so much, Akechi-kun. Especially since we target such high-level corruption every day."

Akechi smiles.

"We're the good guys, Sae-san," he says, easy, knowing that whether or not Sae had chosen Yukimura or Fukumi, the case was doomed to be a fixed trial anyway. The investigation would require more than a month, and the court date was set somewhere in the middle of the Medjed operation in the future. The Director will fix Sae to fail the prosecution and set a bad precedent for herself for the first time in years, setting herself up for further manipulation of her career as she strove to prove herself as a result.

But there was a catch that Akechi thinks he can manipulate with the Yukimura case.

Something that can make this fixed loss a personal victory instead.

"Good guys, huh," Sae repeats, voice dry. It's a tone slightly amused, slightly doubtful. "That's a question up for debate."

"I have nothing to do right now," Akechi lies through his teeth. "Do you mind me assisting you with the Yukimura case in the downtime I have from the Kamoshida and coma investigations?"

Sae shakes her head.

"You're a strange one, Akechi. I rarely see any student so willing to take on more work. But I wouldn't mind, if you can spare a few hours here and there," Sae replies as warmly as she'll ever allow at work, and Akechi works in silence alongside her for the rest of the afternoon.

"It seems a few of Yukimura's victims are willing to testify," Sae says in satisfaction after a few phone calls. "Though they cited they were busy with some of the fallout of Yukimura's arrest and requested interviews next week."

"I'll try tag along," Akechi offers, and Sae smiles in amusement.

"If you insist, Akechi-kun."

**Moon Rank 3 – Sae Niijima**

  


* * *

  


One day he wakes up to a series of surprising texts. Discounting Hikaru, who liked to send clips of what he's practicing every few days, and Akira's context-less articles, an unfamiliar number flashes on his phone.

[Yusuke: Therefore, I was wondering whether it was possible to visit Madarame in prison.]

[Goro Akechi: Although Madarame has been pulled in for interrogation, in consideration of his age and seemingly genuine remorse, he was offered bail that he refused.]

[Goro Akechi: He stands in remand with normal visitation rules, so all you need to do is visit the jail that he is held in, Kitagawa-kun.]

[Goro Akechi: Which reminds me, most of Madarame's assets have been seized as proceeds of crime.]

[Goro Akechi: Do you have any accommodation or funds, Kitagawa-kun? Although you are a dependant and should have funds put aside for you, I understand that the system is often not as reactive as it should be.]

[Yusuke: Thank you for your quick answers and concern.]

[Yusuke: I am lucky enough to hold a fine arts scholarship at my school, Kosei High, and am living on their on-campus dorms.]

[Yusuke: Though I have to admit that these dorms are much less attractive than they were advertised in their brochures. Though I concede that it may be hard to visually depict noise pollution, I believe it should have at least been mentioned as a side note.]

Akechi hesitates, fingers pausing over the screen, before he slowly types his next offer.

[Goro Akechi: Are they uncomfortable, Kitagawa-kun? If they are, I may have a solution.]

[Yusuke: What do you mean?]

And that's how Akechi stands in front of the dorm building with an all too happy to help Saito after school after he explained Yusuke's situation.

"The poor boy was one of Madarame's students?" Saito says, obviously keeping in touch with current news. "Kosei, right? There's been a single room on floor five that has been empty for the past few weeks. There was an international student renting the place but he wished to switch dorms because he found one that was closer to his university. I've been looking for someone to fill it up, so this is just perfect."

Yusuke arrives soon enough, holding nothing except his phone as he navigated towards them.

"Kitagawa-san," Akechi waves when he sees Yusuke, and the other boy nears the two of them quickly when he sees them. Akechi watches Yusuke look around – the neatly trimmed flower beds, the clean glass doors that allow them all the see the colour-coordinated seats of the foyer. "Let me introduce you to our landlord, Ise Saito-san, who manages this dorm building. Saito-san, this is Yusuke Kitagawa-kun."

"It's nice to meet you, Saito-san," Yusuke bows politely, and Saito smiles.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Kitagawa-kun. I've heard the gist of your situation – you wish for a quieter living space?"

"Yes," Yusuke replies with a grimace as they all head indoors. "The on-campus dorms that they provided me with has a comparatively large floorspace so that I can keep all my active projects out if I wish, but no-one actually listens to the curfew that the teachers have set. Just yesterday my concentration was broken by someone sneaking through the window downstairs at unholy hours… Oh my," Yusuke interrupts himself as they pass the foyer, raising his hands into a rectangle. "The colours, a theme of autumn, I see. It matches well with the carpet, tucked into the corner with the complement of light wood!"

"I'm glad you seem to like it, Kitagawa-kun," Saito says with humour, and Yusuke nods, excitement starting to stir.

"I am feeling an express increase in my interest in this room now," Yusuke confesses as they all head into the elevator. They reach the fifth floor soon enough – no different from the second that Akechi lived in, only with a lack of stairs at the end, and soon they're in front of a room that Saito unlocks.

"It's a corner room, which is why it's bigger than the other single rooms in comparison," Saito explains as she switches on the light. It is larger than Akechi's room downstairs, though it is also slightly oddly shaped. It's not a normal rectangular room, for one, a little more oblong to maximise space. The bed's tucked into the corner to maximise floor space, and Yusuke stands in the room with wide eyes. "It's also very quiet up here – I haven't had a noise complaint from this floor for the whole year, Kitagawa-kun, and this corner isn't adjacent to any roads."

Yusuke's silent as he takes it in before he whirls around with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, I can feel it! The call of potential serenity from the hellscape I've been living in!" He laughs, starting low with a build-up that increases in volume as he's obviously becoming more enamoured with a vision inside his mind's eye. "Yes, with this room I can see a part of my creative slump alleviating! The decease of loud noise as I attempt sleep! Another home for the creation of art!"

"I take it that you like the room then, Kitagawa-kun?" Saito says with amusement, and Yusuke nods emphatically.

"If I could, I would change now, Saito-san. Please tell me what I must do to officially transfer."

"It's not that difficult if we can get a hold of your building manager," Saito says as she backs out of the room, and before he leaves to follow her, Yusuke gives Akechi a deep bow.

"Thank you for your assistance, Akechi-kun. You don't understand how much this means to me."

"I think I may have an inkling," Akechi replies, dry. He hadn't been privy to too much of Fox's more dramatic antics, even though he heard them described by the others once in a while. Fox had been more reserved when they were in a large group, sticking to himself thinking about art until either Akira or Futaba engaged him.

It doesn't take long before Yusuke is one of the faces that greet him as he leaves for school, always trundling canvases of unfinished projects behind him as he gives Akechi a polite smile.

"Have a good day, Akechi-kun," Yusuke Kitagawa says, perfectly friendly as he sits on one of the small foyer couches with the cheapest convenience store milk bun in hand. His uniform is spotless as always, despite his hands and nails being spotted with paint and colour that matches the canvas he's rolling around today, and Akechi swallows against such a bizarre conflict of his current and past life.

He should get used to it since he really did bring this onto himself.

"Have a good morning too, Kitagawa-kun," he bows, and leaves Yusuke in peace to eat 

  


* * *

  


When the days turn to Thursday, first week of June, Akechi can't believe that this snuck up on him like this.

Of course, he'd been receiving more television appearances than he had in his last life. Whereas he'd truly began broadcasting his celebrity image at the start of third year, this time he'd started as early as late first year. His image had been well-engrained in the public as a neat, orderly, slightly quirky 'genius' detective, ready to join the force the moment he finished university. He was particularly well-spoken on topics that focused on politics and justice, shows taking him on merely because he was an inoffensive youth representative for any show that wanted it.

Shido liked him maintaining a public persona. Akechi personally thought that he liked jerking his timetable just for fun, as some of the shows were scheduled for filming in the early morning or late evenings, before he would find Shido calling up to see Akechi smile over everything citing that it was 'fine'.

It only struck him when he's striding down the back hallways of the broadcasting station, trying to hurry to make it on time for the briefing that'll inform him of the filming itinerary tomorrow when he hears Morgana's wish to go to that 'pancake-looking place'.

A few moments later, he's looking at the trio.

Akira is the first one to notice him, standing as he is facing the junction where he stands. The other boy blinks in surprise before his lips quirk into a small smile.

When he sees that smile it strikes Akechi, for some inane reason, that he'd never merited such a positive reaction in his past life even at Rank 9.

Akira's face was one that suited smiling.

"Hey," Akira greets, and the other two wheel around. Soon he's looking at two more surprised smiles directed at him alongside the wide blue eyes of a blinking cat, and he's struck again by how different his relationships are with the Thieves when it's not Akechi who greets them first.

"Oh, Akechi-kun!" Anne waves with crinkled blue eyes and a welcoming expression, as Ryuji's grin widens.

"Hey, dude! Whassup? Why're you here in this boring place?"

Akechi blinks, pulling up his own smile as he tries to regain his balance at the hit of nostalgia that washed over him.

That's right. This was their first official meeting the first time, wasn't it? Of course, he had, in retrospect, already given away his status as the Black Mask last time by pointing out Morgana's wish to go to Dome Town. He'd hardly repeat such a mistake this time.

"Hello, Akira-kun, Ryuji-kun, Takamaki-san. I knew that there were going to be Shujin students filming on set tomorrow, but it's a pleasant surprise to realise that it's you three."

"Huh? Will you be filming tomorrow, Akechi-kun?" Ann asks, and Akechi nods.

"They're interested in wrangling more time that I don't have, even though I've explicitly told them that there haven't been more breakthroughs in the coma incidents yet," Akechi says with a slight sigh, and Ryuji gives a sympathetic noise.

"Ain't you a third year with uni exams coming and shit? That sucks, dude."

In another life, Akechi can easily see Ryuji looking unimpressed, before talking about how he dare complain about getting onto a television show and being popular. Perhaps with a few additional comments about how up himself he was as well?

But Ryuji Sakamoto is nothing if not loyal to his friends, and Akechi smiles at his sympathy now.

"Yes, studying has taken a bit of a backseat lately, which isn't very good for my status as a scholarship student."

"Shiho has been saying you've been getting more and more busy lately," Ann says with concern. "You don't have to be so nice, Akechi-kun! Just refuse them next time."

"Well, my supervisor has told me my interviews have been doing more wonders for the police's public image than anything they've tried for the past few years, so I don't really have much of a choice," Akechi says. It's not even a lie if he separated the sentence into sections.

"Ugh, stuff shitty adults," Ryuji grumbles, giving the air a disgruntled kick. "Ain't you an intern? It's their job to be thinkin' about your future first."

"Thank you for your concern, both of you, but I really have to go," Akechi says as he glances at his watch. "I look forward to seeing you three again tomorrow," he smiles, giving all three of them a perfunctory bow.

Akira, who has been standing there strangely silent, makes an abortive motion before he pauses.

"See you tomorrow," is all that Akira says when Akechi pauses for Akira to finish whatever that was on his mind. Akechi gives his friend a long considering look before a phone alarm rings and he leaves at a brisk jog.

That day, Akechi receives what he expects. The broadcasting station's CEO is on a live chat on the computer, and after a brief talk, half of the crew is sent away on various tasks. The rest are under the CEO's thumb, and he gives Akechi a measuring look.

"As you know, _he_ has concluded that it's most likely that the group that targeted Madarame won't stop here. They seem to be striving for some sort of fame. If they attain enough attention, _he's_ sure that we can use them as the scapegoat for the comas."

The CEO has a deep voice, the type that originates from a wide gut, and when he laughs his whole-body shakes with each deep wheeze.

"They're going to point out Madarame's case tomorrow. Make sure you disagree with the agenda of that group just in case we can use them. Separate yourself from the Phantom Heart Thieves or whatever. Got it?"

"Of course, Yamanaka-san," Akechi bows, and the CEO seems happy enough when he cuts the call. Soon enough, most of the broadcasting room is full again as each member finishes whatever miscellaneous task the CEO had arranged for them, and the meeting is adjourned without much fanfare.

  


* * *

  


He's sitting at the colourful TV set again, the bright orange décor and blinking neon lights behind him trying to attract the interest of any idle watcher flicking through the channels. He knows the man and woman interviewing him cursorily – they're not Shido's agents and are professional enough with their job. They try to play off their guests, at least, without trying to buoy the show purely with their own jokes and personality.

He looks up from the table, not bothering to silently practice the sentiments he needed to parrot this time around. Past the many cameras sat in the crowd of chairs, next to Ryuji's flame-red shirt. He doesn't need to do anything to meet Akira's eyes – Akira was already looking at him from the get-go. When Akira gives him a nod, he can't help but give a small smile back.

This moment. He hadn't known just how momentous it would be when he had let a little of his pedantic image go for the sake of connecting with the boy that had incited his interest enough to exchange numbers.

"And now, onto the 'Hottest Meet-and-Greet' segment of our show," the woman begins after the countdown. "We've invited back one of our most popular guests these past few years. Please welcome the high school detective, Goro Akechi!"

There are a few scripted claps from the audience as he stands and greets the crowd, returning to his seat in time for the male announcer to give him an enthusiastic smile.

"Thank you for taking the time to join us today, Akechi-kun. You're only growing more and more popular by the day, it seems," he says, tone generally encouraging, and Akechi laughs.

"I feel like I don't actually do much, so it's still quite a surprise for me," Akechi deflects, and the woman nods.

"Moving along, we've been told that you've got a case on your mind right now. Care to share, detective?" She asks, just like before, and Akechi knows the drill.

He looks away from the announcer and finds Akira in the crowd, clearing his throat.

"Yes, you're correct. After being assigned to assist with Suguru Kamoshida's case in regard to abuse allegations in both school as well as his general career, it was only natural I turned my attention onto the scandal involving the master artist Madarame after he confessed his guilt in the same strange circumstances as Kamoshida did."

"There it is!" The male host immediately reacts, obviously having been told to focus on this topic for the segment. "All of this phantom thief excitement has caught your attention too, Akechi-kun! Allow me to be blunt for just a second. What do you think of these justice-oriented Phantom Thieves?"

"It's intriguing to think about the nature of justice, especially in abnormal situations like these," Akechi starts, dipping his head down in thought. "I think everyone would agree that tales like the Phantom Thieves remind us of our childhood dreams, when we all wished for the existence of true heroes of justice."

"Oh! So you aren't denying that they might be real, Akechi-kun?" The male host asks cheerfully, and Akechi smiles.

"I was once a child who watched Featherman religiously," Akechi admits with a laugh. "If heroes existed, then the thought would only be greeted with joy. But, hypothetically speaking, if the Phantom Thieves were real…" And ironically right in this room, Akechi adds to himself as he meets the host's eyes. "Then I will have to oppose them, as a member of the police force."

"That's quite a statement, Akechi-kun! So you aren't won over by their heroism?" The woman asks, voice toned cute, inoffensive. "Many of their supporters are saying that the Thieves are helping their victims abandon their evil ways." Akechi hums in reply to delay, wondering how to phrase what he needs to say in a less antagonistic way than before.

"If Madarame and Kamoshida's confessions were a result of someone's actions, then there is someone out there who has the ability to change a person's heart. Not only that, they are actively using their power to judge another, and in doing so, bypassing the law. An act like this can only be seen as vigilantism, where the unauthorised are doling out judgment on someone else's actions from their own perception of good and evil." Akechi makes a pointed pause there. "Letting untried people take the reins of judgment is undoubtedly dangerous for public security."

"You have a point, Akechi-kun!" The cheerful host immediately replies, before delving into praise about his charisma of all things, and Akechi bears it with a smile. When it comes to the vote on the Thieves' existence, the 30% isn't as surprising anymore, when he considers the scarce amount of students in the room.

"I'd love to hear some more detailed opinions on the Phantom Thieves' actions," Akechi agrees when the host suggests it. Now that he's looking for it, he's unsurprised that it was Akira who caught the host's eye. Behind Akira's glasses is a sheer focused intensity, a slight hint of challenge in his eyes.

Akira's reply doesn't change. Of course it doesn't.

"It's the complete opposite to what you said, Akechi-kun!" The host laughs, and Akechi chuckles politely.

"Indeed, I can't deny that the police had little impact on both Madarame and Kamoshida's crimes as they continued to occur. Still, this does not justify allowing any random citizen the rights to enact justice based on their subjective and unknown moral code. That would be a dangerous precedent."

"So you think the Phantom Thieves are bad then, Akechi-kun?" The cheerful host continues to push, and Akechi realises. Ah. Yes, there was still that one request from the CEO he hasn't said yet.

"Whether they're good or bad or not, it's perhaps more important to think about their methodology instead," Akechi redirects to the point that they need to get to. "The ability to change hearts sounds romantic at first, but in more criminal hands, it could be used in a variety of ways to perpetuate even ordinary crimes."

"You're right, Akechi-kun," the cheerful host finally dampens his energy to highlight the seriousness of the subject, and Akechi eyes the clock.

Nearly time.

"The police have already started investigations on the matter. We all agreed that such an ability, if it is indeed real, cannot be ignored. It has immense potential to danger the safety of our everyday lives."

And it's time, as the director points to the clock to start winding down the conversation. The segment ends with a few more lines of pleasantry, having successfully planted the start of the idea that the coma incidents could be blamed on the Thieves.

Akechi thanks the hosts, even as he sees a distinctly more disgruntled Ryuji heading towards the toilet, and a disheartened Ann heading outside.

Just like last time, he walks towards Akira. He doesn't bother quoting Hegel this time to start the conversation, jumping straight into conversation instead.

"I didn't expect you to be such a staunch supporter of the Phantom Thieves, Akira-kun," Akechi says with a polished smile, and Akira tilts his head in a silent _'why?'_ Akechi shrugs. "Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, seeing that you've been disillusioned of our justice system intimately. I can see the attraction of the Phantom Thieves from that angle, where there's already an established betrayal of trust in a system that only failed you."

Akira has a moment of silence that isn't followed with a nod, which usually means that he disagrees. Akechi raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

Instead of answering his the unsaid question, Akira tilts his head, calm eyes deep and unwavering says something else. An unflinching gaze, as Akira looks at him with the ghost of the Joker he's starting to see Akira become. It's in his confidence, the way he's starting to walk, the quiet assertion of his next statement without pushing an agenda that ends discussion. 

"Justice can be individual."

"A direct challenge to what I just said, I see," Akechi returns, and something in him can't help but feel anticipatory to re-join this song and dance. "Although I'm not sure if we're talking about the Phantom Thieves anymore, it does beg the question that justice, as a concept, is an inherently social one, Akira-kun. Good and evil, morality, justice itself – all of this is defined by history, by the times itself. To judge someone who lives within society, we should use the societal system of justice to truly enact rightful punishment, wouldn't you say?"

Akira doesn't miss a beat, eyes still and intense behind his glasses as he replies.

"We make the times."

 _Not the collective,_ Akechi fills in. It figures that Akira's thoughts were those of a revolutionary leader.

"There is no beach if there are no individual grains of sand," Akechi acknowledges, genuinely enjoying himself. "But a speck of sand does little to resist an erosive wind or an oncoming tide. In such a metaphor, it would only make sense that the individual would be crushed by the powerful majority…"

"It's not about futility," Akira says, shaking his head in negative. "It's about fighting for your beliefs until the end."

There it is. Akira's patent spirit of never giving up.

Although Akechi knows he's in enemy territory, surrounded by the hubbub of television crews he half knows, the other half he suspects of being in the pocket of one or another conspiracy bigwig, he can't help his smile gentling into something a little more genuine.

 _I agree,_ Akechi doesn't say, as he manages to pull up something a little more appropriate for the public.

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, Akira-kun. Our conversations are always the highlight of my day when we manage them."

"You were the one who didn't manage coffee," Akira says a little pointedly, and Akechi winces.

"Well, that is true. I will strive to remedy that as soon as possible."

Then one of the newscaster's – one of the CEO's men, under his secretary's chain of command – calls Akechi over, and he shifts a little to hide Akira from his direct line of sight.

"It seems like it's time for me to leave. Have a good day, Akira-kun," Akechi says, voice nothing but polite. There are other times for warmth, places that are not literally in the lion's maw, and Akira nods.

"See you soon, Akechi."

He ignores the way he feels Akira's eyes stay on the back of his head as he walks away to greet the newscaster, who mumbles something about a meeting in one of the backrooms before leaving.

  


* * *

  


To wake up after hotpot to an insistently ringing phone isn't the best way to dredge his brain out from sleep, but when the phone insists on ringing even after he rejected the call three times, Akira takes it.

"And you were denying that you were a Phantom Thief!" The girl's voice says, way too energetic at… Akira checks the time. Five in the morning.

"…"

"Don't pretend to be a silent protagonist!" The voice huffs. "You're basically a collection of both Kamoshida and Madarame's victims, you know! And your blonde friend really isn't as quiet as he thinks he is, not that he needed to shout. I wiretapped your phones, I have _eeeverything_ on recording now."

"…"

"Fine, ignore me blackmailing you to tell me all that you know about this version of the Metaverse! Though if you care even _juuuust_ a little about whether I will post all your conversations online, anonymously, for the world to see, then you need to tell me. How did you drag sidekick A, love interest B and quirky geek C into the Metaverse? What secret did you use?"

"…"

The screen suddenly lights up in between Akira's fingers, as someone remotely controls what's on the screen. It's an audio recording, with a large, green clicker ready to post it to an active forum at any moment.

Akira sighs.

"Proximity," he chooses instead of silence. One word. It took way too much energy already and Futaba Sakura falls silent.

"What?" She says, unpredictably soft. Uncertain. Akira thought she would immediately explode into screeches or something. "But it didn't work for me when… Is it your exclusive power?" Futaba demands, and Akira. Akira just wants to sleep off four hours of hotpot, okay, and wake up at an hour that wasn't five in the morning.

"No," Akira manages, thinking of Ann and Yusuke.

"Metaverse readings have become much larger lately," Futaba mutters to herself, loudly enough that Akira can hear. She didn't seem to have bothered taking off her speakerphone. "Maybe it's easier to enter to Metaverse now, in comparison to before? Does that mean… If I follow these dorks…"

Futaba falls silent for a second, and Akira nearly manages to fall asleep again when Futaba's back to full volume.

"Listen! You guys were struggling to find your next criminal, right? I know of one. He's really bad. He nearly killed my mom, forced GA into doing yucky things, and by our analysis of the comatosed patients, seem to have a whole hidden secret network going on. You guys are into eradicating evil, right?"

"Unanimous vote," Akira grunts, even though his brain has latched onto _'forced GA into yucky things'_ , mind reluctantly spinning into gear as Futaba blows a raspberry in response.

"Stuff democracy! Exert your totalitarian strength as a leader and order your minions to follow me! If all you need to do is be near a guy to get into the Metaverse, I already know where to find GA next!"

"Present your case to the whole team," Akira says in a whole sentence because he's sadly half-woken up at the tease of that mysterious something hiding behind this screen of secrecy that GA, Narukami and even Futaba hid behind.

He doesn't bother listening to any of Futaba's retorts. He directly switches off the phone and throws it onto his sofa, before settling back down underneath his sheet and falls back to sleep.

Priorities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D_Maradine is amazing and drew Goro from chapter 6 with their visualisation of Morrigan's outfit, and I'm so, so happy (but also sad) because omg, this would have been amazing with a cliffhanger I was planning to write this week but is now next week, but this does not detract from how beautiful your art is! Goro is as amazingly intense as ever, thank you so much for drawing it. ^^ I love it a lot :D  
> Please check it out if you wish  
> https://twitter.com/Mara_dine/status/1296072985091153920/photo/1
> 
> you know that feel when you lose half your chapter and then you try rewriting it and it feels like a very bad sequel to something great. Yeaah, so that happened, so I'm going to need to edit this more thoroughly when I'm in a more inspired mood (I'm sorry). Otherwise, I hope that it's not _too_ choppy. Imagine that this was actually going to be longer (my cliffhanger uwu), but welp. Next chapter, ending Saito's Arcana, Hell, confrontations, reigniting some stuff, revelations, Akira lowkey being browbeaten with philosophy like how he browbeat Goro with flower-knowledge and they both highkey enjoy it.
> 
> I've actually never played any of the dancing games, so I was so shook at some of the dances when I watched some. (Minato is as great as advertised but Yu? Yu? Why do you dance like that?)
> 
> Also, I made a small warning for once about dom violence because I felt I kinda got hard into it. I know this is just a fanfic, but to anyone who is scrolling by who is experiencing similar things, please know that no matter what someone has justified to you about any sort of violence - physical, emotional, psychological - they're wrong and it's not shameful to ask for help. You are never insignificant. No-one is an island and there is always help even when you feel isolated, because you never truly are, ok? I talk a lot about society, but its the truth that if you realise one day someone has locked you out of all your personal relationships, most of us live in countries where there are literal strangers dedicating hours to hotlines in hope to save even one more person. There will always be care and love somewhere, so please protect yourself first, and many things will finally have space to follow and click into place.
> 
> ...ok i'll stop ranting it's literally so late im so sorry about the long author's note. thanks for your comments and kudos, see you next week!


	33. Chapter 33

Rank 8 for Saito happens over a simple stroll around the hospital gardens. It's a small university hospital and the enclosure isn't that large. The plants are mostly pot plants with a few trees in select places. Saito had wanted to stretch her legs and Akechi had designated the afternoon for the week's homework anyway.

Conversation is sparse and slow, Saito seemingly happy merely to have someone to stroll around with, wrinkled smile a constant on her face as she enjoyed the beginnings of summer. There are various nurses and families walking around, some nurses giving Saito a friendly greeting, skirting around families when they crossed each other on the pathway as Saito watched interactions with a nostalgic look.

There's a grandmother in a wheelchair parked near the doorway across from where they've settled, her middle-aged daughter sitting next to her on the bench. They're chatting over a bunch of grapes laid on a napkin in between them, and Saito watches with mild wistfulness.

"Saito-san, would you mind a personal question?" Akechi asks, like so many times before, and Saito gives him a fond pat on the hand, momentarily distracted from her thoughts.

"Akechi-kun, you really don't need to ask that any more. Just ask," she says with fondness, and Akechi takes a breath. Measures a second, before he asks.

"Saito-san…"

"Yes?"

"What is… Saito-san, despite your past you still support so many people," Akechi explains himself. "I've seen you counsel not only abuse victims, but also those struggling with alcoholism, aggression and violent tendencies. How do you face such people after what you went through? How did you forgive?"

Saito blinks in surprise at his topic before her smile gains a slightly exasperated tinge.

"I'm not so frail that you have to worry about hurting me, Akechi-kun." She says first and foremost. The world around them felt strangely frozen, like a sun-drenched postcard of any other green stretch ensconced in the concrete edges of a modern city as Saito turns back to watch the mother-daughter pair on the other side of the garden. "It's well. Not that simple, actually, now that I think about it," Saito frowns to herself, mouthing a few words to herself for a few moments as Akechi sat next to her. A mirror image to the pair across from them.

"After all the anger, all the feelings of despair and unwillingness, after months and months of grief and sadness, one day I was just left with… questions," Saito says finally, looking down at her hands. The yellowing dry nails, the wrinkled skin. A liver spot, here and there. "So many questions that started with _why._ Unanswerable, most of them. Why didn't I notice sooner? Why didn't I walk faster that day? Why didn't Masako tell me? Why," Saito sighs, "did Hayao change so drastically from the family man I knew, to the one who had a bullet in his gun for each member of his family?"

"That day, I had a choice," Saito says. "I could continue hating, continue fuelling my questions with answers based on that hatred, that dismal despair that wouldn't leave… Or I could choose to try find the truth. Guess what I did to do the second, Akechi-kun," Saito says, and Akechi hums.

There wasn't much that Saito did except the fact that she stubbornly clung to…

"You tried to help others by continuing your social work?" Akechi asks, furrowing his brows in confusion, and Saito laughs.

"Yes, you hit it right on the mark," she replies, stretching her feet so that they were comfortably inside a patch of sunshine. "That's what I tried to do. I helped and helped, when the first thing I didn't want to do was see more Masakos, more Hayaos. I forced myself to look at them, and tried to put myself in their shoes. I slowly collected hundreds of reasons why Masako wouldn't want to tell me the truth, thousands more for why people could change into Hayaos. And one day, years later, I found myself not so angry as much as merely sad that tragedies like these happen." She pauses then, watching the pair in front of them laugh as they finish off the grapes, the daughter pressing a kiss to her mother's old, white-haired head.

"Would you call that forgiveness?" Saito enquires, half to herself, half to her audience, and Akechi looks at the vivid picture in front of them. Golden beams, young grass, white walls and a picturesque familial happiness and replies.

"Yes," he breathes out.

"Did something happen, Akechi-kun?" Saito asks, and Akechi shakes his head.

"I… merely think I may have been too hasty with some matters," he replies, thinking of the red moon, the desolate city. The great pit that lead into Hell.

And a year ago, the flash of hurt on a girl's face as she watched him leave under the arm of a man she hates.

Saito observes him quietly.

"Forgiveness doesn't come easily," she says, and Akechi agrees. "Especially when that forgiveness doesn't come easily because of something you need to confront in yourself."

"I've been trying to be a better person, Saito-san."

"That drive is one of the things I admire most about you," she reassures.

"Would it be too late?"

"It's never too late. Even if decades pass, even if it seems like it's futile because you think they'll never accept you… As long as you have the will, it's not too late to try." Saito's smile is sad and understanding, warm and encouraging all at once when she says the next line. "They're still alive, aren't they?"

Saito straightens, and a dapple of sunshine falls straight onto her white hair and half her face to light it up in a shocking glow. Parts of her white shirt is highlighted too, near blinding, as she presses a kiss against Akechi's hair.

"Sometimes forgiveness is given for others. Sometimes you give forgiveness for yourself. Because forgiveness is ultimately peace," Saito says in that mild, unassuming way that she always speaks. "And I think you, out of all the people I know, deserve to know that."

"Thank you, Saito-san."

"Any time, Akechi-kun."

**Sun Rank 8 – Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  


June the twelfth has an information session for high-schoolers from Tokyo University, and many third-year students had booked a session to see the prestigious university campus for themselves. Many of his own peers were chattering excitedly about what courses they were going to explore, and just like last time, Akechi had also signed up to see what they had to offer.

The campus is just as large as he remembers when he walks through, with volunteer university students in bright shirts directing them to the building that the main talks would be held by lecturers, followed by some university tours before they would be guided to a courtyard where some university students would have set up stalls and information booths. Didn't he meet up with Makoto last time because they were both heading to the law seminar? He's wandering without much care, walking mostly alone. He greets some fellow students here and there, politely sidesteps those who recognise him purely through celebrity status, and finds himself at the large courtyard where they would later be told to mingle and understand the 'campus culture'.

It's a large green square already covered by tables and varying sizes of tents, as students chat happily with their friends. Akechi sits himself on a side-bench in an area that's relatively quiet, pulling out his laptop to get a few things done as he overhears a few conversations.

"Put that in the fridge for now, I think the crowds will start coming after eleven," says someone authoritatively, while another tent panics over having not ordered enough sausages.

"Gosh, I come _aaall_ this way to visit you partner, and this is what I get?" Akechi overhears someone complaining at a nearby stall that was still setting up.

"There was no-one else I could bequeath the sacred duty of setting up this tent to," comes a flat reply. "You were the only one free. Best friend." The voice tacks on the last two words like it's an afterthought, and his friend groans.

"Pulling such a half-arsed best friend card isn't going to work this time! Man, I could've been working on finishing my final composition project you know? Instead of… whatever this is. Show me some appreciation, dammit."

"I love your radiant presence in my life, bro," the first voice replies, deadpan. "And be careful, those are my Mello Kitty cookie moulds. Cute, aren't they." There's a pause, before he tacks on. "Light of my life."

"Ugh, stop that you weirdo. Just shout me a milk tea later, alright? Anyway, aren't these from that Junes sale from back in February?" His friend replies. "You targeting to get some more girls in your club or something?"

"No. I just like cat-head cookies."

There's a _'pfft'_ sound, before his friend sighs in amusement. "Of course you do, partner. Of course you do."

They let the topic rest, and the conversations around him transform into background noise as Akechi wiles away the time until it's nearly ten-thirty and the law seminar was about to start. Packing up, he retraces the steps of his past to enter the bright hallways of a relatively new building, brightly lit and filled with third-year students of all different kinds carrying brochures and sticking around friends as they navigated the walkways with a buzzing curiosity and anticipation of who they could be in the future.

Just like before, he sees Makoto Niijima walking down the corridor looking pensive. It's a strange observation to make, to see such a difference between who he remembers as Queen and the brief glimpses of who she'd been beforehand. Queen had yelled suggestions to the other Thieves, keeping track of every enemy's weaknesses and strengths for the entire group, as not everyone had Akira's near encyclopaedic memory (when pressed to share his thoughts, which he rarely did). She kept her determination strong and head high, one of the most confrontational towards him because he had infringed on her claim in the Phantom Thieves.

In retrospect, it was pretty obvious that she would hold no positive feelings over using her sister's Palace as a vehicle to capture Akira. However, in characteristic straight forwardness, she also neglected to notice that Akechi hadn't held any negative feelings towards Sae at all. By directing the Thieves into Sae's heart and transforming her into a victim, Akechi had deflected most of the scapegoating that Shido would have tried to force on her.

Three birds with one stone.

Not that, in the end, those plans had been necessary anyway.

"Niijima-san!" Akechi calls, knowing better than to say 'good-girl type pushover' to her face this time. It still flashes in his mind when she startles in surprise when he calls her name, straightening her bowed shoulders as she turns.

"O-oh, Akechi-kun," Makoto replies, brushing off her skirt and standing straight. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"It's nice to see you as well, Niijima-san," he says with a refreshing smile. "I see you're interested in the law seminar as well? Planning to follow Sae-san's footsteps?"

"Maybe," Makoto replies as they walk towards the seminar room together. "It's an interesting career choice to take, and I wanted to hear more to see if it's what I wish to do. I haven't seen you around Shujin lately, Akechi-kun."

"Despite the other detectives still investigating the case?" Akechi asks knowingly, before he shrugs. "I was assigned to investigations regarding Kamoshida's past instead of any fieldwork with Shujin Academy, though I have been keeping up with the case notes as far as I could. Madarame's confession doubled the pressure on the Kamoshida investigations since they both had contact with the Phantom Thieves."

"Is that why you approached me, Akechi-kun?" Makoto asks knowingly, and Akechi laughs.

"Very perceptive, Niijima-san. I was wondering, as the president of the Student Council, whether you have any new observations in regard to the Phantom Thieves? Surely," Akechi asks, looking at her from the corner of his eye, "you have some suspicions as to who they are?"

"So that you can apprehend them?" Makoto replies with a little pointedness of her own, and Akechi raises an eyebrow.

"Well, it is the duty of a detective to strive for the truth. There have been victims, their personality rewritten by unknown means. Isn't it the duty of any to use their natural abilities to the fullest when faced with such a source of societal destabilisation?"

"You stand opposed to them, Akechi-kun, but you don't doubt their actual existence," Makoto observes, and Akechi smiles.

"There is little cause to doubt their existence except common sense, and all the reasons to believe they do exist when looking at the evidence," Akechi replies smoothly. Makoto had disliked his hubris last time, and it wasn't as if being humble was hard to fake. "When reality is usually much stranger than one would realise, the 'unknown means' the Phantom Thieves use merely translates to a duty for investigators to transform that unknown quantity into a known one. Wouldn't you agree, Niijima-san?"

"…Yes, I can agree to that," Makoto concedes, though her face is still furrowed into a frown. "I watched your segment on television. Do you really think you stand on the side of justice?"

"You ask this because the Thieves have taken down irredeemable criminals," Akechi smiles at Queen. What had been her cause for awakening again? "But the answer would be much simpler if the Thieves had targeted, let's say, your neighbourhood auntie and forced her to publicly humiliate herself by sharing all the benign, pathetic secrets that everyone has in their closet. The Phantom Thieves may not be bad people," Akechi clarifies, "but their means are questionable. The law defines criminal behaviour before judging character, to see if the sentence can be ameliorated. A killer is first apprehended before judging whether he had remorse, whether it was self-defence. If I judge the Thieves by the morality of their means alone… Yes, Niijima-san. I can say I stand on the side of justice."

Makoto frowns. "But if they haven't truly brought harm to society," she starts, "then can we truly bring them to true justice?"

"The harm principle is a diverse philosophy when you start separating categories of harm, Niijima-san," Akechi says politely, "and as my mentor once said when advising my opinion on matters like our Police's acceptance of the yakuza, such things should be decided on your own. Though... it seems you are quite confused," Akechi tilts his head as they arrive in front of the seminar room. "That's a strange look to see on a Niijima."

Makoto laughs without humour at that.

"My sister never hesitates, does she?" Makoto says, before massaging her forehead. "You're right, I've been thinking a lot of inefficient thoughts lately. Maybe I'll benefit from visiting the school counsellor too."

Akechi blinks in surprise as they settle down into seats next to one another, having arrived a little early so they had clear view of the board in front.

"Shujin has a school counsellor?"

"Maruki-sensei was hired for the sake of students who may need psychological support after what they went through under Kamoshida," Makoto expands as she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "But he's welcome for any member of the student body until November, when his contract with the school ends."

That's when the lecturer comes in from a side-door with a welcoming smile on his face, ready to introduce the subject to a whole room full of high school students eager to know more, and Akechi subsides even though he's trying to search his memories for any mention of a school counsellor.

…No, there wasn't. Even by the time Haru Okumura had joined the Thieves, the vice-Principal had never tried to hire a counsellor.

Makoto didn't seem the type to speak in lectures, so Akechi puts it aside for now. He'll revisit this later.

There were matters he had to take care of today.

  


* * *

  


In the bustling courtyard where many volunteers were introducing the university and its features, clubs already promoting their availability through food and other activities, Akechi beelines towards the barbecue corner that the Engineering students had set up. There's some curious students who stand shyly in front of some more extroverted members of the Engineering club laughing out reassurances that 'university's the easy bit. Work hard so that you get into your uni of choice, okay?'

"Hey, interested in engineering too? There are many disciplines you know," a friendly volunteer approaches, and Akechi shakes his head.

"No, I'm looking for a member that I was sure would be here. Minoru Yano?"

"Oh, Minoru? He's on barbecue shift getting a few more sausages. There he is now, actually," the girl says, before she waves at a tall, well-built man holding a large cardboard box in his arms. "Minoru! There's someone here for you!"

"Who is it?" Minoru replies, putting down the heavy box and rolling his shoulders. He has a surprisingly handsome face with an admittedly prominent jaw, and he looks at Akechi with a wide smile. "Is it you?"

"Hello, Minoru Yano," Akechi bows. "My name is Akechi. Would you mind if we talked for a minutes in private?"

"Eh, go ahead, Minoru," the girl he was talking to slaps his shoulder. "We have enough people at the moment, and we're not swamped."

"Thanks, senpai," Minoru grins, before he walks up to Akechi waving to an empty spot in the corner of the courtyard with a large tree. It's not often Akechi has to look up to others, having grown to a height of 178 cm, but Minoru is at least half a head taller than himself. "Well, what is it, Akechi-kun?"

"Apologies in advance," Akechi states, before getting straight to the point. "I am a friend of your grandmother, Ise Saito-san."

It's palpable how Minoru immediately stiffens, the previously open demeanour transforming straight into defensiveness.

At least he seems to know he doesn't treat her well, Akechi thinks with kind smile on his face. Not a completely ignorant idiot.

"What about her?"

"Nothing, really," Akechi says, switching his case from one hand to the other. "She wasn't the one who told me to contact you, Minoru-san, don't worry. She merely mentioned that her grandson was studying here, so I wished to meet you." Akechi's smile gains a slightly sly curve when he narrows his eyes. He's perfectly friendly when he asks, "Why, is there a problem?"

"Nothing," Minoru replies. "I'm fine, it's nice to meet you, Akechi-kun. I have club activities, so we'll have to stop our conversation here."

"Before you go, Minoru-san," Akechi calls when it seems like Minoru actually wished to leave and not look back. "You may not know, but I am a detective intern at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, in a Special Investigations Unit. I stumbled onto a case from 2007. You may know of it?"

"Why're you digging up old matters like that for?" Minoru replies with a slightly hunted look. It's always a little fascinating to see how quickly people can change, Akechi thinks a little detachedly. From the confident, bright young man that Minoru first presented himself as, two questions already broke him down so much.

A sensitive personality? Akechi wonders in the back of his mind. Or is it just a case of unresolved trauma?

"I was just interested when I read over a case that one of my friends was involved in. There were a few strange quirks in the scene left unresolved—"

"I don't remember anything," Minoru cuts him off, face pale as a sheet as he stumbles backwards away from Akechi towards his engineering group. A defensive overreaction towards perceived safety, Akechi's mind provides as the man in front of him continues to stumble on his words. "Don't ask me any more, there's nothing I can tell you. I, I need to go now."

Does this count as bullying, Akechi wonders, as Minoru is welcomed back to the barbecue with laughter and jibes that soon turn into faces of concern. Some crane their necks to look curiously at Akechi, and he merely nods at them before he walks away.

"Buy some treats that are also pet friendly," someone calls from their stall as he walks past it towards the station. "Eat it with your best friends in the world."

"Isn't this the fishing club?" A confused customer asks.

"Yes, but the full name of the club is 'Tokyo Fishing and Cat Appreciation Club'."

"Oh, um. That's an interesting combination…"

Someone hurries past him as the conversation grows fainter.

"Partner, did you let another customer get away?"

"It's fine, Yosuke. The less I sell, the more I get to keep."

"…That's not how profit works!"

  


* * *

  


"Hmmmm," is the first thing that greets Akechi when he steps into Mementos. José is standing on the red seats of his car, squinting at Akechi with a thoughtful frown before his face settles into a slight pout. "Mister, it seems like we can't strengthen our bond yet! That's such a shame," José sighs, plonking himself back onto his seat. "I understood a lot last time! It actually made me start on a new project."

Akechi doesn't try to resist as much this time, carefully folding himself into Josés car by his own terms.

"A new project?" Akechi asks with a raised eyebrow, and José smiles, one tiny hand patting Akechi's arm.

"Yup! It'll be _super_ obvious when I'm finished, I promise! It's something I was inspired by after I talked to you last time!" José says as he revs the car up. Akechi closes his eyes and mentally prepares himself as José nonchalantly floors the pedal. They go from standstill to near full speed in a few seconds as José keeps chatting. "And don't worry, mister! I think I've figured out how to make your Human Stomach be less grumpy with you!"

To Akechi's horror, José has discovered the concept of drifting around corners.

"Hahaha, see?" José grins proudly in front of the first Shadow Portal as Akechi tries his best not to hurl. "Wasn't that a lot smoother?"

Akechi flops over the door, hand over his mouth.

"Oh, oops," José droops, hopping from his side of the car and unlocking the door and dragging Akechi the rest of the way out with no problems. He even lifts Akechi a little to rearrange him to lie on his side, crouching in front of his head again when he's finished. The little madman had the audacity to look genuinely sad. "Not good?"

"Blmph," is all Akechi manages.

José tilts his head, before looking back at him. "Well, it seems like I don't need to be somewhere else just yet, so I'll stay with you to keep you safe, mister!"

The next few minutes is filled with chatter as José continues crouching next to him, playing with his hair again as he twists it into complicated weaving knots as he waits for Akechi to recover. It's mostly what he's learning from drinking flowers, and his realisation that _'studying humanity is actually harder than I thought!'_ and Akechi steadies himself enough to open one eye.

"Where did the flowers come from, anyway?"

José blinks his large yellow eyes at him before his face breaks into a smile.

"Oh, I adjusted Mementos when I came here!"

Akechi's brain stalls.

"That's my specialty, kind of," José says like there's nothing that special with knowing how to alter the collective manifestation of humanity's distorted desires. "It's kind of like how those attendants are Rulers of Strength and how they're really good at fighting. I'm not a Ruler of anything yet but I've always been um. Curious? I'm good with details and, um, making things? It's hard to explain," José finally defaults to his usual shrug. "I've been altering Mementos for that other black mister too," José continues with a small concentrating frown, having finished one complicated chain of hair-weaving on one side of his head and rolling back on his heels to look at his work with a smile. "For stamps instead of flowers, though."

The question _'What are you?'_ would probably garner the absolute null response of 'It's hard to explain', so Akechi tries for more clarification.

"You… changed Mementos?"

"Yup!" José nods, patting his chest proudly. "Mementos is someone else's construct, so I can change it! The flowers were always there, I just needed to… twist some stuff a little before they became collectible." José tilts his head, before continuing with a small serious nod to himself. "I like collecting things."

"That's quite obvious," Akechi grits out as he finally leverages himself up with a helpful push from José on his back. "Just by looking at your car."

"Oh, now that you mention it!" José blinks at the boxes of things stuck on the back of his car. "You're very right! Wow, mister. You're so observant." José pats Akechi's leg, impressed. "As expected of a Wildcard."

There's a million things Akechi could say to that statement, but José tilts his head again, in that focused way. As if he's listening to something far away.

"It seems like I have to leave now!" José skips back to his car and jumps right in. "And it looks like you're fine, so give me your flowers at the top again just like before, mister! Good job!"

With a flurry cheerful waves and a few more parting honks, José leaves once again in a flash of star balloons, and Akechi. Well, Akechi downs one of Wakaba's status all-cures the moment he feels like he can swallow something and sighs.

Time to get going.

  


* * *

  


Unlike Fusa's request, whose Shadow was nestled in the depths of Mementos, Minoru is in one of the first few portals he enters.

Minoru isn't mumbling anything. In fact, the Shadow is crouched on the floor, hands over his eyes, shoulders hunched to his ears. It's as symbolic as anything Akechi has ever seen. Most Shadows hunch defensively as they try to justify themselves or are wildly confident as they speak of their innermost thoughts or wrongdoings with pride.

Minoru is quiet. Caged. When Akechi draws nearer, the Shadow looks smaller than the real-life Minoru he met, and he doesn't react at all when Akechi bends to kneel on one knee in front of him.

"Minoru Yano?"

No response.

He reaches out and touches Minoru, and that garners a response. Minoru's yellow eyes flicker open, sees Akechi in Morrigan's attire, before firmly squeezing them shut again. This time he swaps the hands over his eyes to block his ears, and Akechi's smile is pasted on when he simply reaches a hand and pries the arms off.

There are few Shadows that can deny the strength he has after so many years fighting in the Metaverse, and Minoru opens his eyes angrily when Akechi easily holds his hands away from his ears despite visibly straining.

"Minoru Yano, why don't you visit your grandmother?" Akechi asks candidly, gripping the wrists tight when Minoru tries to pull away. It immobilises him, and Minoru finally looks straight at Akechi when he realises just how much advantage he has. "Finally listening, hm? Tell me, Minoru," Akechi says as he leans in. "Do you hate her? Is that why you don't visit?"

"No!" Minoru bursts out. "I don't hate her. _She_ hates _me_."

What kind of nonsense is he hearing.

Since it seems like Minoru wasn't going to go back to being a defensive shell on the floor, Akechi lets go of his wrists and stands up, unimpressed look on his face.

"Did you just say… Saito-san hates you?"

"How can't she?" Minoru asks, starting to curl up again. "She must hate me. Uncle says so, Auntie says so. Mom adopted me, and I was the reason why they fought sometimes. 'Why can't you have a real child?' Dad would yell, and mom would yell straight back. I couldn't even protect mom, I forced grandma all the way across the city when she took the blame for me. It's better if I just live like this," Minoru mumbles softer and softer, hands back across his eyes. "Like I don't know anything. What I don't know can't hurt me. It can't get to me. Can't reject me."

Akechi breathes in slowly.

Saito-san, in another life, had lived in isolation because of something like _this_. Disregarding those comments about Choei and his wife for now, Akechi gives into a little of the disgust he's feeling when he transforms into Robin Hood's gear.

Now that his feet were not sheathed in literal knives, he walks towards Minoru and kicks him straight into the wall.

It's not particularly hard. He was curled up in a perfect ball shape.

Minoru rolls and hits the wall of his Mementos room with thick _thud_. He fully uncurls, eyes wide in surprise as he stares at Akechi in bewilderment.

"Get up and fight me," Akechi says as he examines his gun idly, before getting into his ready stance. Glowing sword in hand, he waves at Minoru. "Come on. As civilised as the real world is, we all know that you Shadows understand things by shows of strength. I'm perfectly capable of beating some sense into you."

"Sense?" Minoru repeats, the Shadow slowly standing up.

"Into that pathetic mind of yours, yes," Akechi says.

"…Pathetic?"

"Pathetic," Akechi affirms, smirking against the rising anger that he senses from Minoru. "Denying reality, sticking your head in the sand in a stupid delusional world of your own. What else would you call that but pathetic?"

"You don't understand!" Minoru snarls, face suddenly twisted as he stands to his full height for the first time. As tall and well-built as the Minoru on the outside, the Shadow suddenly looms as he glares at Akechi across the room. "You'll never understand the feeling, to know your mom died because she was saving you! To kill a father, to know that grandma is hated because of you!"

"And I don't need to understand," Akechi replies, raising his sword, "to know that you're running from your problems."

"Get out!" Minoru screams, shuddering. His form finally transforms into a large Anubis, scales dangling in his hand as he looked at Akechi sideways. "Get out of my room!"

"Finally," Akechi says, reaching for his mask. He had the first attack, being prepared. _"Megidolaon!"_

The fight isn't that hard – Minoru seems to have a skillset based around Hamaon and Mudoon, but Akechi has collected enough Homonculi and has enough battle-sense for the attacks to miss every time Minoru tries to inflict him with one or the other. Soon Minoru is transformed back into the Shadow he once was, eyes horrified as Akechi walks towards him.

"You've beaten me," he says in shock, and Akechi rolls his eyes at the obvious.

"Yes, I have. So you have to listen to my request," Akechi says. "Believe me when I say, as your grandmother's friend, that she has never hated you. She waits for you every week and forgives you for your absence every week."

Akechi does not steal hearts. He doesn't post a notice for the real person to acknowledge that their cognition may change.

When he beats a Shadow and convinces it to go back to their real selves, it's not something permanent like what the Phantom Thieves can do. It's not even a true change of personality.

It's just a suggestion, albeit a very strong one. An answer to their greatest insecurity.

"So go back to your real self and overcome yourself for once," Akechi says to Minoru.

"She… doesn't hate me?"

"No-one does," Akechi rolls his eyes, "except me, if you keep on hesitating."

"Will you beat me again if I don't try?"

"Yes," Akechi replies without hesitation, and Minoru flinches.

"Alright. I'll… I'll go."

The Shadow says nothing more, shimmering out of existence as Akechi watches, tucking his sword back into his belt before returning to greater Mementos. He collects flowers on the way, and visits Choei's Shadow out of curiosity as he finishes Shido's requests for the week. He comes out of it with a bad taste in his mouth and a hope that Minoru is enough.

José collects the flowers he has at the entrance with a happy enough smile.

"Good job, mister!" He waves Akechi out, something becoming more and more familiar as Akechi gives him a lazy wave back and steps into the elevator back to the surface.

  


* * *

  


"You found a target already?" Ryuji smiles widely, before clapping Akira on the back. "Great job! So, who is it? Someone famous? What sorta criminal are they?"

Akira gestures to Ryuji's phone, which gives a _'ding'_ right on time. When Ryuji clicks on the group chat, his eyes widen.

[?: Hello, Ryuji Sakamoto. I am the one who commissioned your leader.]

"What the?"

Ann and Yusuke both pull out their phones when their phones continue to vibrate.

[?: I have a prospective criminal that only the Phantom Thieves can get rid of.]

"W-wait a second," Ann says, looking up from her phone with the same shock that Ryuji had. "How does this person know who we are?"

[?: I realised that you were the Phantom Thieves after the Madarame case.]

[?: Three direct victims of Kamoshida and Madarame's student joining the group right after his change of heart?]

[?: You guys aren't as inconspicuous as you think.]

"No one has caught us yet, however," Yusuke says measuredly. "And you obviously haven't reported us to the police. You truly must have a goal for us to achieve."

[?: Your leader has told me you've heard of the Black Mask. I know him as GA, and he's not as evil as you've heard.]

[?: He's my friend, and he's under the direct control of someone very evil. He's someone that I know has hurt many people. The true mastermind behind the coma incidents.]

"The coma incidents," Morgana murmurs, serious. "They've been widespread and notorious since they began two years ago. It has affected so many high-profile people that it's been put as one of the highest priorities for investigations as time passed."

[?: Not only that. The mastermind seems to also be the head of a conspiracy dealing with the darkest bits of society.]

[?: From my initial investigations, we guess that not only does the conspiracy leader has yakuza under his belt, he also has factions in the police and the government.]

[?: Isn't such a high-profile target exactly what you want?]

Ann stares down at her screen, swallowing. "Wait a minute. Going to target someone like that? Isn't that a little too high profile for us?"

Ryuji frowns. "Yeah, I get you. But doesn't this sound exactly like the sorta guy we wanna get rid of though."

"It undoubtedly sounds dangerous," Yusuke puts in his two cents. "The scale is much larger than Madarame. Are we truly prepared for something like this?"

Morgana's ears flick, before his blue eyes look to Akira.

"What do you think, Joker?"

There's no doubt in Akira's mind. He looks up to meet the gazes of his three friends. His team, looking back at him with a trust that he wants to repay.

Auburn eyes, a voice in the night.

"I want to go."

"Really?!" Ann reacts in surprise. "Isn't this someone we should probably target a little later?"

Akira shakes his head. "You haven't heard the full details yet."

[?: Indeed. You won't be going straight into the Palace of the mastermind. Even I don't know who they are.]

"Then how'd you expect us to go after him?" Ryuji says.

[?: I've tracked down where GA, his agent, will strike next.]

[?: Your leader has informed me that all you need is proximity to enter alongside someone into the Metaverse.]

[?: We will use that rule to follow GA into that Palace and confront him there.]

"Wait," Yusuke says, confusion palpable on his face. "Didn't you say GA was your friend? Why do you need to go to such lengths to face him?"

There's a pause before the chat replies.

[?: It's complicated. That's why I need your help.]

[?: Will you help me?]

[?: It's not as if you have any other leads right now for a new target anyway.]

"Okay, vote time," Ryuji says seriously. "Akira is obviously in favour. Anyone else?"

There's silence in the attic, before Morgana leaps onto the table.

"I'm in. If Joker thinks it's a good idea, then I support that. Anyway, it'll be a good opportunity to truly measure up this Black Mask that Madarame was talking about. He made the Black Mask sound like a criminal using the Metaverse for his own gain, but here we have another story." Morgana stretches, shaking out his coat, before he continues. "I have a feeling that we should take this opportunity and find out the truth for ourselves."

"My thoughts are simple," Yusuke begins. He's looking down at his hands, scrubbed clean of paint before coming to LeBlanc. "The Phantom Thieves saved me when there was no other path, and I joined to continue saving others in similar need. If this mysterious person speaks true and there's another who is oppressed like me, then I… would wish to help."

"Ugh, now that you two have said that," Ann says, clenching her jacket in her fists. "I definitely don't disagree with either of you. It's just… No." She sits up straight, eyes determined. "I told myself that I'll be strong, didn't I? I'll say yes too. Whatever happens, we can do it together."

Ryuji hears all of that and grins. "And my answer is, hell yeah! Destroying some evil mastermind lurking in the dark? Sounds perfect for the Phantom Thieves!"

[?: …Thank you.]

[?: Then prepare to meet up at LeBlanc after school the day after.]

[?: I'll lead you there. I've calculated the next time GA will visit the Palace he's targeting this month, and it's probably Tuesday.]

"Tuesday?" Ann mutters in mild panic. "I feel so unprepared!"

"Wait a sec, who're you?"

[?: Futaba Sakura, of course. I'm Sojiro's daughter.]

[?: Ok, see you guys tomorrow.]

The mysterious user logs themselves out, the chat filled with the original four again as the other three process the information.

"Wait, the Boss's daughter?" Ann shrieks.

"Boss has a daughter?" Ryuji splutters.

"Why is the Boss's daughter involved in a conspiracy anyway?" Yusuke mutters to himself, and Akira shrugs when all three of them look to him for answers.

"She promised answers if we can get her to GA," he replies instead.

"It feels a little strange to trust a tip like this, but we'll go with it for now," Morgana says to the whole group. "We've already decided on what we'll do, so make sure everyone gets enough rest so we can prepare properly for Tuesday. We don't know what we'll face," he says ominously, and the Thieves all nod seriously as they pack up to leave.

  


* * *

  


He's coincidentally greeting Saito as he returns to the dorms after school when he pauses at a familiar figure on the other side of Saito's blinds. When Saito turns around as well, her breath hitches. Her eyes are wide as she immediately leans forward to twist her blinds open to see the face of her grandson lingering at the entrance of the dorms, unable to enter because he lacked a security key card to open the glass doors.

Saito immediately presses the button to let him inside, and Minoru only hesitates a little before he enters, stepping inside to knock politely on Saito's office doorway.

It's Akechi who opens the door with a polite smile. Minoru doesn't really have the time to register him before his attention is inevitably drawn to Saito as he steps aside.

"Hi Grandma," he says uncomfortably.

"Minoru," Saito says with disbelief, standing up from her chair. Akechi nudges Minoru forward, which he does in an awkward stumble. Watching them feels like watching a confrontation between an awkward giraffe and a small smiling buddha with their height difference, but it's Minoru who seems shy and young when he bows his head.

"I woke up this morning and I… I couldn't hold it in anymore. I came to tell you… I'm so sorry!"

Minoru bows ninety degrees, and Saito blinks in bewilderment.

"What for?" She asks, trying ineffectually to push Minoru back up to standing straight, but Minoru refuses to budge.

"For ignoring you for so long," Minoru starts. "For being a horrible grandson. I ignored your notes, I didn't return any presents, I let you take the blame for something you'd never do, and I let uncle and aunt believe that too so that they'd still love me. It was my fault that mom and dad started arguing too, wasn't it? I, I understand if you hate me because of it…"

"Minoru," Saito says, voice warm as she stops trying to push him up and brings her grandson to her shoulder in a hug instead, wrinkled arms barely able to wrap around his broad shoulders. "Whoever told you that?"

"I, I know that being adopted by mom was such a blessing, and I, I killed dad. I couldn't save mom. I ruined you, grandma, I can't help but think what if you didn't choose me? All of you will be so much happier without me, it would've never happened—"

"Now, Minoru, listen to me," Saito says as she continues rubbing his shoulder. "You know what Masako told me when she first adopted you? When she looked down at you all cute and soft in her arms? She said, _'I chose him, mama.'_ And my daughter was so brilliant at that moment because she was proud to have you as a son. She was so, so proud and excited to become your mother."

Minoru's breath hitches when Saito mentions Masako, and Saito gives him an understanding hum, patting his shoulder. "And that's how all relationships are, no matter if we're blood-related or not. Every day we wake up, we choose over and over to love and connect and communicate to the people around us. And Minoru, whether it's today or tomorrow, next week or next year, I want you to know I'll _never stop choosing you_. I don't hate you. I'd _never_ hate you."

"Even when I ignored you for so long?" Minoru's voice wobbles, his manly face softening into one that echoes a much younger child, the one that Saito fondly reminisces to Akechi whenever he's there.

"You were young, and you had much to process. It's understandable for you to take your time. You're here now, aren't you?" Saito replies.

"Even though I ruined your relationship with Uncle and Aunt?"

"That started a long time ago, Minoru. It isn't your fault. Additionally, they were the ones who chose to cut me out of their life," Saito says patiently. "Without even trying to listen to their own mother, they chose to give into society's stigma instead. If I can't trust them with the truth, it's their own fault, Minoru. Not you." Saito dips her head, eyes closed as she breathes in deep. "Never you."

Minoru starts crying, bowing his large frame to rest his head on Saito's shoulder as he tries to fold himself into her hug as much as possible. Saito closes her eyes as well, mouth trembling as she tries to draw her arms impossibly tighter around him.

"I'm so glad you're here, Minoru. We have a lot to catch up to, don't we?"

"I'm _so sorry_ , grandma," he's trying to say, blocked by a clogged throat and snotty nose, and Saito nods against his hair.

"I know, it's okay," she says into his babble, as he continues.

"Auntie and Uncle always said you hated me, that you didn't really want to see me, and I didn't want to face you so I believed them—"

"If there was anything to forgive you for," Saito says, her face just generally relieved, "then I had forgiven you long, long ago."

Akechi watches discreetly in the corner before slipping out the door to let them have their privacy.

**Sun Rank 9 – Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  


The very next day comes with a very strongly worded message from Saito to come to her house. Or else.

It's a school day, filled with worksheets and assignments that his memory has already half-filled. There's not much time after-school either, since he had to accompany one of Shido's detectives to obfuscate a trail from someone in the Conspiracy who had been too careless with his dealings, nearly being caught by a reporter. The Cleaner had done his work already, drugged and shipped her off somewhere, but she apparently had a partner who was keen to continue investigating her case.

"We can't make too many journalists and such disappear," Shido's goon says, annoyed to mop up another's mistakes again. "Journalists are protected by the law, and if even a slip of this winds up in the press it'll be a hot mess not worth the effort. Better to clean it up now."

So, the afternoon was dedicated to cleaning up the contacts of the Conspiracy member in question. Some kind of fraud-ring where the person had directly referenced Shido's name, and Akechi isn't in the greatest mood when he finally hauls himself in front of Saito's house at eight in the evening.

"Akechi-kun, is it a bad time?" Saito says with sympathy.

"I'm guessing I'm not hiding it as well as I think I am," Akechi says with a laugh as Saito ushers him into her house. Toeing his shoes off, he's surprised to see a whole meal waiting on the table for him, underneath various plates to keep it warm.

"I know you rarely have a proper dinner, Akechi-kun," Saito says with a crinkle-eyed smile, lifting the plates to let the steam in the air. Soup, rice, mackerel, a whole heap of vegetables, some salad on the side, and Akechi is ushered into his seat. His case is placed near the doorway with a heavy thunk, and soon enough he's trying out each dish under Saito's approving eye.

"They're all very tasty, Saito-san," Akechi says honestly. All the ingredients were high-quality and cooked with care. This is the probably the first time he's eaten such a good home-cooked dinner (his lacking culinary talents one main cause), and Saito beams.

"Thank you, Akechi-kun. I keep feeding you sweets and snacks when you come over to help or visit, and I just couldn't help but have my conscience pricked a little. You're a growing boy, you need a little more than sugar and fat."

As his mouth was full with a bite of fish – salty, slightly crunchy on the outside while the insides stayed relatively moist – Akechi doesn't reply. Saito doesn't give him a chance to either, as she continues.

"Akechi-kun, you had something to do with Minoru coming back yesterday, right? He mentioned meeting you," Saito asks knowingly, eyes crinkling into warm crescents when Akechi immediately feigns innocence. "None of that, I didn't demand you to come today to criticise you. I wanted to thank you. You disappeared so quickly yesterday that I didn't have a chance," she says, slightly chiding, and Akechi swallows.

"My apologies, Saito-san," he says. "I figured such a long-anticipated family reunion would require privacy."

Saito huffs in annoyance, though even that expression on her has a levity to it that wasn't there before. Whatever she'd talked about with Minoru had brightened her up from the inside out, with a complete happiness that he'd rarely seen from her.

"To me, you're a friend as precious as family, Akechi-kun," Saito says, before she hesitates just as Akechi is eating another bite of fish. "Without you, I can't imagine where I'd be," Saito says, mind going faraway for a little before recovering. "I was wondering… Akechi-kun. Do you feel comfortable with me?"

"Of course, Saito-san," Akechi replies. Saito has only ever been supportive even when she didn't need to be, and one of his few contacts that was completely removed from the Conspiracy, and when Saito hears his answer something in her face gentles.

She had been anxious, Akechi notes with a little curiosity as he pulls the salad a little closer.

"Akechi-kun, would you mind taking a look at this?" Saito says as she pushes a stack of paper towards him. The logo for the Department of Social Services is on top, and when his eyes wander down Akechi nearly chokes on a piece of potato.

"I understand if this is a little sudden for you, Akechi-kun," Saito says, calming. "Please know that you can refuse and nothing will change between us. You'll always be as precious as family to me, and no piece of paper will change that. This is merely an offer made by the selfish whims of an old woman who wishes for another grandson."

Akechi slowly puts down his chopsticks and picks up the papers. Saito's name and details are all filled out as he flicks through the booklet, with letters of support and records of her social service. The other half – those of the child in question – were left empty.

He's never been given this offer before.

"I know I'm old so the adoption might not even go through in time," Saito says deprecatingly as the silence stretches. "You can change the details as you wish, Akechi-kun. You don't have to change your name, and I'll let you keep all your emancipation privileges if you wish. It's merely a formality to undertake if you're interested, because you're nearly an adult anyway. You know how I get a little too serious at times. Don't worry about Minoru objecting, if you're concerned," Saito continues to prattle uncharacteristically. "I asked him yesterday, and he didn't have any protests except that he wishes you'll be a little less intimidating, whatever that means. You're a wonderful boy, Akechi-kun…"

In all his lives he's never ever given thought of having a _grandmother_. Foster parents had always been a mother and a father pair.

Saito-san is comfortable. Comforting. Safe, and Akechi blinks once. Twice, a little rapidly, as he flicks to the end of the adoption papers and looks up at Saito-san.

The more he thinks of it, the more he can see it. There's still a little formality between the two of them that he can see easily erased. The next few years, Minoru a weekly visitor, Saito prodding Akechi in the kitchen to gain actual skills. Afternoons on the porch, sipping tea, doing homework. Visits to the church, Saito celebrating his cases after he finishes an investigation. Birthdays with sweets, a stroll, going somewhere special and rolling out an album of new photographs to stick on walls.

"I'd love to, Saito-san," Akechi says, before determination has him looking straight into Saito's eyes. "But I can't. Not yet."

Saito's face flickers into disappointment, before her mind catches up.

"Can't, Akechi-kun? What do you mean?"

"That gang you suspected me of being involved with," Akechi says. "It's not exactly a gang, and I haven't extracted myself from their clutches yet. If we file these papers," Akechi places them back in the middle of the table, still half blank. A promise of a proper family. "Then you'll be targeted next, Saito-san. I don't wish for that."

"Can I help?" Saito immediately asks, and Akechi shakes his head firmly in negative.

"No. I will deal with it by the end of the year. I have allies, and I have a plan," Akechi says in reassurance to this old woman, who had offered to be his _grandmother_ , with documents planned well in advance of today, and Akechi feels that strange warm feeling in his chest again, threatening to burst. "Saito-san, you're… important to me as well. Please stay safe."

"Then… next year?"

Akechi smiles, engraving this moment into his mind. Saito, looking worried and hopeful. The meal in between them, thoughtful, slightly steaming in the air, and the papers that he'd never thought he'd ever see. A rickety old house, carefully cleaned, and he bows to Saito in gratefulness.

"Please ask me again next year, Saito-san."

"I'll ask every year if you wish me to, Akechi-kun," Saito replies, eyes a little wet. The disappointment has disappeared from her expression, at least, as she bows back. "Thank you for entering my life and helping me when I thought there was no-one left who would. Thank you for bringing back Minoru. Thank you for letting me choose you."

They finish the meal with cheerful chatter, the adoption papers placed carefully in a file that Saito slides carefully into her shelf, and that night, when Akechi steps out into the street, he thinks.

He truly thinks, for the first time, he had something worth looking forward to in a future past Shido.

Speaking of Shido, there were still unfinished matters to address.

Pulling out his phone, he looks at Hinata's name on the list.

Forgiveness.

He thinks, he can. He can force himself to be someone who can open his heart. Use his observational skills to empathise instead of analyse.

Be as strong as the old woman behind him.

**Sun Rank 10 – Ise Saito**

  


* * *

  


"Oh come on, don't push!" Ann is complaining, pushing against Ryuji, and Ryuji scowls.

"Hey, it's not as if I want to be cramped like this. Oh crap, be careful of your elbow!"

Ann's elbow barely misses Ryuji's nose and lands squarely on Yusuke's solar plexus, making the artist give a soft _ooph_ in unspoken pain, prompting Ann to give a flurry of apologies over Ryuji's continued grumbles. Akira's just glad he had the foresight to be the last in as he tilts the plastic tarp that Futaba provided, glancing over the deserted street that still held no person.

They were all smooshed into a corner of the apartment block, a concrete square that just fit five people if they were crouching, some kind of disused storage space for trash or something else. Thankfully it only held dust, dirt, and some old graffiti on the walls as the Thieves reluctantly crouched inside, waiting for GA. It was the closest corner to the entrance of the apartments that Futaba had shown them, so it did make sense even if it was horrendously cramped.

Futaba furiously shushes them from her own corner, hunched over a laptop with lines of data that scrolled way too quickly, her bobbly mask taking nearly a quarter of the available standing space by itself. "Shh! GA is a really paranoid person, if he notices you guys we'll miss this chance forever!"

"Oh man," Ryuji groans, "are you even sure that he'll be here today?"

"Yes, now shoosh!" Futaba commands, and Ryuji rolls his eyes even as he settles down. There's a brief moment of silence as all the Thieves crouch there, listening to the tapping of Futaba's fingers as she does whatever she does, and it's when Ann was starting a complaint about her back when Futaba's eyes widen.

She twists, knocking Yusuke in the back of the knees (Akira catches him with sympathy because it wasn't as if it was Yusuke's fault he had the longest limbs out of all of them) shoving her screen at them. Currently, there was grainy CCTV coverage of a few streets, one of which vaguely looked like a shadow of a person approaching.

"This footage is extremely low quality," Yusuke comments when he glances down, and there's palpable impatience in Futaba's reply.

"Yeah, no-one's updated these cameras since like, the nineties or something cos this area's poor. Ugh, if I wasn't keeping this a secret I could've asked them to update the cameras to something better so I can see GA's face," Futaba grumbles even as she switches cameras to keep following the black and white shadow as it crosses the road to round the corner to their street. "Now be extremely quiet! GA is going to be right there on the other side of the wall, and if you want your next Palace we need to get sucked in with him, alright?"

"We're not sure how strong this Black Mask is going to be right?" Ann says unsurely, but Futaba's slapped a hand over her mouth as they all hear footsteps on the other side of the wall. They're measured, and there's a slight sigh just a few steps away hidden by stone brick.

Ann stopped trying to pry Futaba's hand off her mouth when she feels the tension in her hand. They're shaking, and Akira can easily imagine the girl's eyes squeezed shut as the person on the other side of the wall speaks after a few seconds.

Akira himself closes his eyes when he hears the voice.

"Hinata Osumi. Hinata Osumi's apartment. Hell."

And the world warps around them.

The first thing he notices is that it's suddenly cold. Instead of Tokyo humidity comes a whistling bone-deep chill that swirls around them. The Thieves are suddenly free to fall apart as their little corner near the wall disappears, transformed into what seemed like one unilateral barrier that stuck up into the sky in large, jagged spikes. On the other side of the barrier is the dark silhouette of the rest of Tokyo, tall apartment buildings all standing empty and abandoned plastered with hundreds of eyes that seemed to stare down at him the moment he noticed it.

Ann shivers as Morgana hops up onto two feet, his face alert. "What is this place?" She says, even as Ryuji squawks.

"Holy shit, I nearly fell in there!"

Akira turns to see him scrambling backwards from the edge of a humongous, yawning pit, the source of the whistling breeze that's being sucked inside. There's no telegraph to the beginning of the pit – just flat concrete before a ninety-degree plunge into unknown depths.

"We heard that GA guy say Hell, right?" Morgana's says seriously, ears flicking erratically as he looks at the huge pit himself. "I'm guessing that this is someone's warped cognition of what Hell must be like."

"I'm in, I'm in this time," he hears Futaba mutter to herself as she digs her fingers against the smooth concrete before she looks up. The wide eyes of her smiling mask contrast her tone as she looks around. "Where is he?" Futaba demands, hugging her laptop. "…And why did you all change clothes?"

As Morgana launches into his usual explanation about the will of rebellion and how it manifested, Yusuke makes a small noise of surprise. He has both hands raised in a rectangle framing the low-looming moon that hangs heavy in the sky shedding red light just above the stone barrier.

A figure perches there silhouetted against the red, a black metal mask that curls in sharp feathered blades covering his face. He watches them with intricate armour that covers him from neck to toe with detailing that seems deadly efficient, delicate spikes where he can do damage, feet sheathed in boots that gleamed lethally sharp. A cape flutters behind him from the wind, something that looks nearly ragged as those red eyes gleamed.

"And what do we have here?" The Black Mask speaks, voice lower and raspier than what he usually hears, and the whole team whirls around to see GA straightening up and leaping down from the wall, landing in a smooth roll and crouch. His cape – gleaming black feathers, now that he's closer, sewn together – settles behind him as he stands smoothly, hand on his hip where a glowing sword rests. "Are you the Phantom Thieves of Heart that I've been hearing about recently?"

"Yeah," Ryuji replies hot-headedly, stepping forward. "We've been hearin' things about you too, Black Mask."

"Like?" GA says slowly as those sharp gauntlets grip his sword, and Ryuji's about to reply when Futaba shoves her way forward.

"GA, you idiot!" She yells, tearing off her large mask and letting it bounce to the floor. GA is obviously surprised, the grip on the glowing sword loosening when he notices Futaba standing in front of him. Still in her normal clothes, however, surrounded by all the other members of the Phantom Thieves in their suits of rebellion, but she doesn't hesitate. "You said it before! If I could follow you here, you'd explain everything to me!" Futaba demands, putting her hands on her hips even as her voice shook. "So explain! Mom getting hurt, the comas, that mastermind you told me about. You know I can help! We'll take him down together!"

"…No."

"Why?" Futaba immediately asks, stepping forward even as the Thieves back her up behind her. GA's eyes – _Goro's_ eyes, in Akira's mind, because even though the other Thieves didn't seem to have connected his identity yet, Akira has followed this voice for years on television. Had seen him laugh, those eyes gleam with a wry calculation that he sees here, now, as he stands as Futaba's GA and judges the group.

"You're too weak," GA replies, his voice still a rasp as he dismisses all of them to head towards the pit beside them. "Even I can't beat the Mastermind by myself and you all are… You're not even awakened yet, Futaba. And those Thieves next to you."

His voice is grim as those red eyes glance through all of them. "They can't even beat me, four to one."

"Hey!" Ryuji immediately protests, beating his pole against his leg in a threatening pose. "We ain't weak! You don't even know us, so don't judge what we're capable of!"

"Indeed," Yusuke agrees. "Skull's right. We have yet to exchange even a minute of words before you've already judged us so," and GA scoffs.

"Alright then," he replies, turning to fully face them. "I'll delay my exploration of this Palace for you all to test that. Show me your power!" GA declares, drawing his glowing sword from it's sheathe to sink into a ready pose, knees bent and poised to attack. Akira feels the gleaming intent of battle, and he immediately waves for Yusuke to take Futaba back, the Thieves jumping into battle formation as Morgana immediately focuses.

"This reading… This is no joke, guys!" Morgana says, jumping from side to side in readiness even as his voice shakes in surprise. "He's stronger than anyone we've ever met before! Nearly three times as strong as Madarame!"

"What?" Ryuji squawks even as he readies himself. "Wait, he wasn't jokin'?"

"It doesn't seem so," Morgana replies with deadly seriousness. "Be careful, here he comes!"

"Oh no, what have we gotten ourselves into?" Ann moans even as she lifts her whip.

Akira was prepared for GA to be strong, with the small briefing that Futaba managed to tell them. When Leanan Sidhe's Psio, his strongest Persona right now, didn't seem to faze GA at all, he knew they were in big trouble. Goro stands with absolute confidence without even bothering to dodge their attacks, barely flinching through the rain of bullets that Anne heaped on him.

Strong. Immovably, undoubtedly strong.

"Come, Morrigan!" GA calls, metallic fingers gripping the knife-sharp mask before ripping it off. A large black knight rose behind him, a spectre that raised her silver sword up the sky without even a command. Her blonde hair fell gleaming in crimson as a mad smile overtook her face from under the shadow of her helmet. _"Megidolaon!"_

A spell that Akira hadn't even heard of bloomed in front of them, engulfing them all in a bright light that hurt, genuinely seem to hollow them out from the insides as Ann directly fainted, Ryuji barely hanging on. Morgana seemed to be clinging on with just a sliver, as Akira falls to one knee even as he stares straight at Goro, who seems disinclined to continue the fight.

"Want to continue?" GA drawls, Morrigan dissipating behind him, and Ryuji coughs.

"Shit," he curses.

"My point exactly," he says, even as Yusuke runs towards Ann with a revival item. "It's still too early for you all to even think about helping me defeat the mastermind."

When GA starts to turn around, Futaba shrieks a _"wait!"_ as she runs forward.

"Don't you dare turn away, GA! Do you know how long I've been searching for you?" Futaba yells, and to his credit GA does pause. Futaba takes that as an encouragement to continue, walking closer step by step. Her hands are clenched tightly into her shirt. "Mom's still in a coma, you know? We don't have any other clues, and I still really want to bring the mastermind to justice. There's a lot of people I know who're suspecting you right now, GA," Futaba continues, basically word vomit as she grasps for anything she could say. She stops a few steps in front of him. "They're super strong, and all they know is that they've connected you with the comas and they'll give you a chance if you join us. Because I know you're not a bad guy. You saved me, you saved mom, and I'll never forget that, no matter what anyone says."

Futaba stands there, breath held as she stares up at GA's masked face for a long, long moment that breaks when GA lets out a small sigh.

"…You're searching for a target, correct?" GA finally says. He looks at Futaba in front of him quietly, the sharp edge of his voice softening into something a lot more familiar to Akira's ears. Yusuke beside him tilts his head in confusion. "I'll give you a name. Kaneshiro. A crime lord," GA continues, never looking away from Futaba. "Part of the Conspiracy. If you can change his heart by next month, I'll think about your offer. It doesn't seem like I'll finish this Palace any time soon," he points one daggered finger at the yawning pit next to them, as big as a baseball field, "so I promise. I'll meet you all here in one month."

He meets all of their eyes – a woozy Ann, shaking her head to clear out the wool from reviving, Morgana, who stands protectively in front of her. Yusuke is still squinting, tilting his head still confused, even while Ryuji angrily hits his hand on the concrete.

"We'll show you just how amazing we are, right, Joker?"

GA meets Akira's eyes last, and no-one is looking at him when he mouths.

_'A-KE-CHI'._

Goro's eyes widen.

"Joker?" Ryuji repeats, glancing back at him now, and Akira nods.

"We'll meet you in a month, GA."

Goro recovers, turning around in a swirl of his feathered mantle.

"Good. Then we have a deal."

GA leaps up and scrambles up the wall with startling efficiency, dropping to the other side of the barrier in a few quick seconds. Then with a shimmer of the Metaverse warping, GA is gone.

And Futaba watches as he slips through her fingers again.

It felt like a strange reverse of that time, two years ago. When she stood there in disbelief as GA melted into thin air without her. Now she's here but still powerless to _keep_ him here with her, and she stares down at her hands.

"Why didn't I just _grab_ him," she says to herself, stretching out her arms. They tremor when she holds them out, weak and useless. "Why did I just let him, let him _walk away_ from me? Is it because I'm always a scaredy-cat? Why… _ugh_ ," she clenches her head in pain, a reverberating echo drilling into the very core of her brain, and Akira watches as Futaba Sakura bites down screams, writhing in agony as her inner voice of rebellion spoke to her.

 _Just like last time,_ the voice whispers, _simply never enough to reach him are you? Unable to help your mom, too weak to seek the truth. Always the child crying in your room, waiting for someone to protect you._

(Futaba, crouched on her chair watching mom sleeping, curtains drawn. She's found something but they've sent someone else to investigate, and she'd thunked her head against her knees, squeezing her eyes shut.)

_Are you going to stay weak and pathetic forever, locked away from the knowledge that you've sought for so long?_

"No! I'll _never_ give up! I can seek the truth, and I know it will always be in reach as long as I keep trying!" Futaba yells as her fingers scrabble against her mask, slowly peeling it off as a black body-suit replaced her casual clothing. "I'll grab and punch GA the very first thing I do!" She vows, fists clenched as she finally wrenches the mask off her face, the blood healing with burning flame. "I'll be strong enough to depend on too, so _give it to me!"_

When Necronomicon awakens, a massive UFO descends upon all the awed Phantom Thieves, Futaba's eyes widening as she stares at her new clothes. Her new skills.

Akira shimmers out of the Metaverse alongside the rest of them after Futaba explains her Persona, and in the midst of laughter and renewed introductions as the Thieves welcomed their new team-mate, Akira checks his phone.

There are texts, just as he expected.

[Goro Akechi: I should have known you would become something like the Leader of the Phantom Thieves, Akira-kun.]

[Goro Akechi: It's not as surprising to me as you may think. I think I can guess the series of events that happened.]

[Goro Akechi: I'm guessing you have questions.]

[Goro Akechi: If you wish to talk, meet me down by the seaside park near the station exit. I have some business there and I'll join you by 9]

  


* * *

  


Akechi manages to finish up the investigation request for the evening a little earlier than expected, but when he arrives at a quarter to nine Akira is already standing at the exit, head bowed as he taps on his phone. A loose hoodie is slung over a white shirt and casual jeans, but Akechi observes that there are a few late-night revellers that note his presence anyway, giggling as they pass what is an admittedly quite striking profile.

Akira pays the crowds no mind though, busy replying to a chat that scrolls quite quickly. The Thieves, no doubt. Interestingly enough, Morgana isn't peeking out of Akira's bag, and it's only after another moment does Akechi approach.

"Hello, Akira-kun," Akechi says with one of his most pleasant smiles, the one that feels most familiar on his face when he's not truly feeling the mood.

Akira immediately looks up, turning off the screen and tucking his phone in his pocket.

At least there's no hostility in Akira's gaze that he can sense. There's a slight tenseness in the line of his shoulders, and between them lies a weight of expectation that only arises when there are too many matters left unsaid. But Akira is not defensive or aggressive.

He's merely… patient.

Hands in his pockets, bag over his shoulder, Akira Kurusu seems willing to _listen._

"I said I'd give you an explanation, didn't I?" Akechi says lightly, gripping his attaché case tight as he looks out towards the bright street. There's a walkway that runs perpendicular to it a little further on that edges the beach. A little more secluded, and Akechi nods towards it. "Shall we walk as we talk?"

They cross the road when the pedestrian lights turn green, and soon enough they're walking down a bricked pathway that's grainy from blown sand. They slowly walk away from bright streets and crowded walkways, meeting less and less people as they walk farther down the beachside path. Soon they only meet a lone dog walker here and there, before they are secluded enough that they meet no-one for minutes. The only sounds are the sea and their footsteps.

"Here should be fine," Akechi says as he puts down his case and rolls his shoulders at a small bend of the path. "You must be curious about why I'm GA, and I won't keep you waiting any longer."

He's already decided what to say during the few hours between their confrontation in Hinata's Palace to now. His original plan to introduce himself to the Thieves was shattered anyway, most probably thanks to Futaba if he had to guess. Akechi had decided on thinking about the consequences of all of that… later.

First, Akira. He'd decided on the truth that leant heavily on what he'd told Atsuzawa.

Akechi had ensured that his story would be less aversive this time, after all. There are no murders, no obsessed chase. He hasn't used Loki to Berserk himself to overcome hard battles, and he's found more peace than he'd ever had.

There is no reason to not reap the result of his hard work.

A sob story it is, then. A sympathetic take.

"You know I am an orphan, Akira-kun," he starts, pensive. "My mother died when I was eight, and my father had abandoned her when she became pregnant. I've always wished to know why, or at least, make my presence known to my father. Unfortunately, he had become quite a powerful person so it was a rather difficult process."

"Do I know him?" Akira asks, and Akechi's smile becomes a tad wry. Akira definitely knew Shido personally, though it's not the time to bring it up. It wasn't as if Shido didn't try to paste himself into every political television issue, so Akira must have seen his face somewhere before.

"If you're informed in certain circles, yes," Akechi acquiesces. "I won't tell you more until you are stronger, but know that my father is an influential man. When the Metaverse App appeared on my phone, I took it as an opportunity to meet him. He nearly fell into a scandal, you see, and I found out some critical information that saved his reputation. After that, my father was very interested in the Metaverse and the potentials it could bring. He drew me into his influence by promising to sponsor Metaverse experiments and my independence for minor requests in exchange."

There's a salt breeze that brushes gently at their hair, wet and humid that doesn't feel as suffocating as it would mid-afternoon.

"I was soon struck by the knowledge that my father wished to use the Metaverse for his own gain. But by then, I knew too much about his conspiracy and had proved too much value. An absolutely undetectable agent that he could use throughout the whole of Tokyo is hard to resist. Despite his best efforts to draw me deeper into his schemes, I've managed some resistance until now," Akechi projects a bit of humour towards the silent shadow of Akira who is just standing still, intent on capturing his every word. "Don't worry, Akira-kun. I haven't killed anyone yet."

A particularly violent wave splashes against the shore, the gentle slide of water sounding longer than usual as the water stretches in a reflective pool against the flat beach before it retreats. And Akira's hand clenches his bag strap.

"You were all alone?" Akira frowns. He hadn't trimmed his fringe lately, his hair dropping over his face just enough to half shade his eyes from view. His glasses did the rest, and all Akechi could truly see by the dim white pool from a lamp a few metres back was the tilt of Akira's mouth, an unhappy line instead of anything thoughtful.

And Akechi, who has always prided himself for reading between the lines, can't help but tilt his head against this concern in a slow swell of wonder.

"No," Akechi turns away from Akira, suddenly unable to continue meeting his face. He instead looks at the sea in front of them, glimmering dark waves that lap at beach in front of them in gentle splashes. He feels the cold painted metal under his arms as he leans on the metal banisters that separate the walkway from the beach, slightly tacky from salt breeze, and he tries not to focus on the only spot of warmth from his right as Akira also leans on the banister. Akira sticks close, their elbows nearly touching as Akechi looks straight ahead. "No, I wasn't alone."

Instead of his monitored apartment filled with impersonal things, he had Saito's welcoming smile in the morning as he left for school, a small dorm room where he stacked manga and philosophy side by side on the shelves, with boxes of collector teas and detective notes from cases he actually has weight in. Instead of diving into the Metaverse alone as he still adjusted to a new world, he had Wakaba for a time mumbling all the time about 'matters of high scientific importance!', her extreme enthusiasm that gradually turned into fun jibes against each other.

Atsuzawa and his tired yawns, willingly fighting alongside him for those few months against Shido's crimes, ruining Shido's legacy from the safety of his couch. Fusatsune, taking on the burden of Shido's surveillance with an unimpressed roll of his eyes.

"I had friends that helped. You've heard of Futaba's mother, surely," Akechi says, and Akira. He doesn't look any happier.

"Didn't she fall into a coma two years ago?"

"Back then I was too weak to protect her," Akechi replies with genuine regret, because the image of the fire still sometimes visits him when he stays in his crafting room, listening to the complete isolation of the Metaverse. It is in the lack of burns on Wakaba's Shadow, his lingering curiosity every time he leaves as to when she would wake up. "Fortunately, she finished the agents I asked of her before we… succumbed to the incident. One to comatose Shadows," Akechi expands when Akira's silence changes to one that asks for explanation, "and one to awaken them. Killing Shadows kills their real counterpart, and she allowed me to avoid staining my hands while staying relevant under my father."

"Then I met you, and a few more friends." Akechi directs a smile at Akira, risking a look at his expression, before glancing away again. "My supervisor too, for the first year of my internship before it got extended, helped me when I told him about the Conspiracy. I've had people on my side, Akira-kun."

"The comas?"

"Are entirely my doing," Akechi admits easily, because even now there is nothing in Akira's body language to indicate any hostility or rejection. Akira merely stands still against the slight breeze pushing from the bay, listening. "My father, thankfully, has no other person that has the ability to enter the Metaverse. Don't worry, Akira-kun. There is no-one else in this Metaverse conspiracy you need to chase down." Akechi smiles at Akira reassuringly. "Only me."

Akechi watches as Akira presses his lips into a thin, unreadable line, muscles in his jaw clenching as Akira turns himself towards the sea. His mind is obviously churning the information over in his mind, and Akechi doesn't interrupt.

"…You've worked hard," Akira ultimately says, watching the city lights glimmer over the small waves of the sea. Towering skyscrapers, hundreds of square lights, a vast empty sky that reflects off the smog that dissipates so close to the ocean, and Akechi chuckles lightly, because he'd hardly call the things he'd done for Shido 'work'. Akira turns his head at that, listening to his laugh. His face still wearing that slight frown. "Akechi, I want you to know. Even in the future, if the Phantom Thieves don't accept you…"

Akira, looking at him through his fringe. A pair of dark eyes over the rim of his glasses.

"You have me."

Akechi blinks, before a warm swell amusement overtakes the small relief that he wasn't being rejected. Akira's words are a deceptive statement, stated simply and bluntly as Akira is wont to do, a declaration that Akechi knew wasn't offered as lightly as it was presented. In a world of hypocritical duplicity filled with unrepenting liars like himself, Akira was never the type to back out on his word.

"Are you seeing me as another case to save, Akira-kun? A Yusuke to his Madarame, an Ann to spectres like Kamoshida?" Akechi asks, leaking the bemusement that he's feeling into his tone. Akira is always defying the odds. Achieving the impossible, like he was the last joke for a corrupted universe. The last ace in the lost hand of a foolish idealist.

Akira shakes his head. "No. You're my friend, Akechi," he says simply, straightening up. "I'll get stronger just for that, so I can help." He uncurls himself from that gentle slouch. They had been standing close enough that such a simple twist has Akechi blinking as he's forced to look up to continue facing Akira from where he's still leaning against the banister. The sound of the ocean is loud in his ear when Akira leans closer, voice low.

He is so close that there is nothing blocking his vision of Akira's expression now. Akira's eyes are bright, alert, his lashes long as he blinks. If his glasses weren't there, Akechi imagines that he could feel the brush of them as Akira continues.

"But if you need saving," Akira says, dark eyes intent, every word a promise. "Then I will save you."

Akechi can't help but swallow as he leans backwards.

"That's quite a declaration, Akira-kun."

"It's not a joke," Akira says, breaking from that solemn expression for the first time, demeanour transforming into something a little sharper. A hint of Joker's danger in the beginnings of a smirk as Akechi strangely struggles to find words when he meets Akira's eyes. "Don't underestimate how important you are to me, _Goro."_

Akechi can count on one hand the people who call him by his first name.

Akira blinks a few more times, before he sees something that gives his smirk a little satisfied edge when he finally pulls back to stand in that comfortable slouch, weight back on his heels with his gaze hidden by the gleam of his glasses.

Back to watching. Misleading others with his quiet, stoic manner, and Akechi suddenly finds enough air to breathe.

"Didn't like that?" Akira asks, casual with his hands in his pockets, and Akechi can't help it. He laughs, slightly inelegant laughs that ring out a little ragged and dispels whatever air had lingered between them, while Akira watches with a tiny flicker of a smile on his face.

"No, I don't mind," Akechi replies while denying response to anything else Akira said, focusing on the one moment that makes perfect sense. "I've been calling you Akira-kun for the past few months. Feel free to call me by my first name…" Akechi pauses before he concedes. "Akira."

Akira's smile stretches wider, as if these small concessions were truly valuable enough to bring joy. Such a ridiculous person, Akechi thinks as he straightens up himself, picking up his case. There's an unspoken agreement for them to continue their walk down the harbourside, the moon a bright circle in the sky with the smell of brine and food from passing restaurants as they enter a more populated area. Chatter surrounds them, a vivid gamut of noise and light where the only steady spot in the bright chaos is the dark, quiet shadow of Akira by his side, treading steadily, inexorably forward.

"We'll finish Kaneshiro," Akira says as they part at the station, serious. "Wait for us, Goro."

"…I will."

**Fool Rank 5 – Akira Kurusu**

  


* * *

  


There's a soul that's floating on the edge of a very long, white comfortable place.

Well, they think it's going to be comfortable anyway, they're not sure. It's not as if they've been in there, understand, but it feels like it'll be very comfortable since it's all warm and welcoming and smells somewhat like home, like they'd been there before wherever they'd been, and that it's been a long time since they were born. They'd watched a whole lotta similar things fall into the comfy place too, just kind of merging themselves into it, so it's also probably what they should do too.

The thing is, they feel some kind of tether holding them back. There's a tiny whisper of something not so very they and kind of like a she, and a feeling that she can join this comfy place anytime so she shouldn't just yet (because it's a very, very big white place that's bigger than her by a bajillion times) but that she is a very small voice in them and its hard to hear her sometimes.

They want to re-join the sea, because they know it's her time.

(She wants to go back – there's so many things left undone, and really, she didn't test out that agent as much as she should've because she was rushed on time, and oh gosh, Goro facing that bastard alone, Futaba)

So they sit, tugged forward to their destiny, and back, because there's a small tether of a reminder.

_It's safe now_

Comes a voice somewhere in the darkness. Soft, weak. As if they were very far away.

But there's nothing else except for falling souls, and they can hear it anyway.

_Safer than before, anyway. They've met. It should be easier for you to grasp the way back now._

Something in them balks at leaving the white sea in front of them, but the tiny whisper grows a little stronger. She wants to, but she feels like soup. Names and faces are all muddled up. Chemical names mixed with a man's laugh as he talks about opening a café, the smell of curry and her baby's laughter when she's five and asking too many questions. A scientific conference, speaking of the phenomenon of vicarious emotion and proposals to why it occurs, watching late night anime with her laptop open even as Futaba cries because they referenced Black again in R, and the serious eyes of a boy as he talked about death and assassinations and unflinchingly tore into monsters with Featherman guns who ate sweet snacks when he thought she wasn't looking and she is, she is who

The ephemeral voice, flickering, weak.

_You can do it_

_Wakaba Ishikki_

And suddenly she remembers. She takes a step back from the inviting call of the sea and turns, and sees a silver, thin, but unbreakable bond that stretches long, long, in a pathway back to where she was, where she can belong again, and the voice laughs.

_It's in your hands now_

Wakaba Ishikki takes one step away, then two, before she treading back the way others fell, following the tie back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akechi: sees Phantom Thieves. *plays boss music  
> Futaba: FUCK LET ME PUNCH YOU AND DRAG YOU HOME AND FEED YOU CURRY  
> But also anime rules: *oh hey like I know you casual acquaintance but the moment you put on a mask and stand in the darkness nuguseyo who are you, oh you're so mysterious that black portrait I can't ever guess  
> Also Akira: i watched your shows for years you think this can trick me
> 
> Here's a super long chapter! I hope the confrontation isn't disappointing ^^' Sorry for any horrible typos, I'll edit throughout the week. Yes, so the cliffhanger last chapter was just going to be Akechi silhouetted by a red moon telling the Thieves they were too weak with the scripted battle loss (i wanted to write Akechi being rlly cool because im cheese). However, then I realised that I was suddenly inspired to write the fallout so please accept some fluff as well, because haha, akeshu, lol this fic. Look at all this sexy communication going on. I thought about adding an elbow bump but then that would be too spicy, that sudden escalation *fans face  
> Also Wakaba. (and minato being the absolute bro).  
> In the fight for Akechi's adoption, Saito got a head start and is solidly in the lead
> 
> Thank you for all your kindness guys uwu. Your support with your thoughts and encouragement in comments and kudos is rlly, rlly motivating. I don't ever want anyone to feel obliged to comment (because sometimes i feel terrible about not replying lol, but then i regret everything i say some days because what is speech), but it feeds me to keep going, and it always delights me when you guys pop in to say hi or theorise or tell me what you found nice. Thank you! I'm glad this fic makes you guys happy :3 Especially for those who are going through hard times *hugs*. I hope this gives a little joy to keep carrying on.  
> Next week: futaba rages makoto is confused sae is stressed and jose gives no crap. hikaru is hikaru. fusa may or may not have found something concerning


	34. Chapter 34

Hinata wakes up and wonders why she’s alive.

It’s another bright morning – the neighbour next door always yelled at someone over the phone in the morning, slamming her front door with it jammed between her shoulder and her chin as she replied with endless complaints. It’s always a problem with her mother, her sister, her father, her partner when she stalks past Hinata’s closed door towards the elevators.

On the other side is her more silent neighbour, who only ever indicates his existence through a monthly noise complaint about Shion’s crying at random hours of the night. It’s only through good luck that the landlord doesn’t take the noise complaints too seriously, being a middle-aged woman with a family of her own.

She used to like mornings like this. Her mother, when she was younger and more forgiving of her daughter’s lack of talent in studying and anything cultured, had laughingly called her a summer child for how Hinata had practically burst out the door whenever there was bright sunshine splashing the corners of their neighbourhood in blinding, shining white. It was the unrelenting heat beating her shoulders, being soaked to the bone in light and energy and an air that seems clearer and more inviting when it’s cast under a clear azure sky that made her child self wish to run and run and run, breathe that world full of brightness inside her, laugh when she dug her toes into furrows of tree bark and climbed up and saw the playground from above the heads of all the others.

It’s funny in retrospect that her memories don’t remember many specific moments of happiness. There’s a lot of her as a child wishing to get this toy or that, not wanting to eat her mushrooms and forcing it in anyway. She remembers wishing she was an adult when her dad sternly told her to go to bed, feeling annoyed about her mom when she packed lunches and the packet of biscuits inside had a picture of that embarrassing anime that she told everyone she didn’t watch.

Small things that overtook her whole mood that made childhood so simple in retrospect, that something like that could make her sulk for twenty minutes and the people around her would _let_ her. That they would understand her world was just that small back then, that she didn’t know that a packet of biscuits proving she’d lied to her friends wasn’t the end of the world.

Hinata wonders if happiness is something like that. A film played in retrospective, watched by someone who has only learnt and grown from sadder and more bitter things. Had lived alongside crueller philosophies and done cruel things themselves and had their standards of what ‘happiness’ means brought lower and lower and lower, to the point that previous unhappinesses become ‘happy’.

She had been happy as a child, she thinks. Despite all her memories saying otherwise, she had been unrestrainedly, unreservedly happy.

Her mother, not yet squinting at her report cards, not yet frowning when she came back late at night. Her father, willing to buy her toys and trinkets just to see her smile instead of pointed questions about her ‘laziness’ every time she stepped out of her room. She had a bed and a room filled with things she liked or once liked, sleeping every day with confidence that her mom would’ve cooked her breakfast, steaming on the table, with a packed lunch on the kitchen bench waiting to get stuffed into her backpack.

Now, lying down taking shallow breaths, Hinata thinks yes, that was happiness. To be able to take that for granted without thinking about it. To be confident that her parents would love her despite anything she did, and know that if she wanted to, she could give her mom or dad a hug and they would only give her a questioning look before reciprocating.

In the corner of the room, Shion starts crying and Hinata should get up. Should check what’s happening with him, her baby, who is probably hungry or needs a change of nappies. He’s the only reason why she gets out of bed in the morning sometimes, but today even that seems insurmountably difficult as she tries to breathe past the heavy weight that’s pressing down on her. She’s comfortable underneath her light sheets, and all she wants to do is her close her eyes and fall back to sleep. She doesn’t want to answer the question that’s pressing her down, making her limbs feel like sacks, doesn’t want to face a world that seems to only confront her with one, perennial question.

_What is the meaning of your life, Hinata Osumi?_

She doesn’t know. She thinks she might have had a meaning once, that meaning that everyone else takes for granted as they wake up without thinking about why they do. They blink awake and effortlessly propel themselves to eat, brush their teeth, head out and face a million strangers with a pleasant neutrality because they knew they were going somewhere worthwhile. They live their day and make money, buy things they like and connect with friends with the assurance that happiness will visit them, a fleeting or constant visitor, today, or tomorrow, or a nebulous future far in the distance.

Hinata doesn’t know how to grasp that person back. Her friends left her after she dropped out of school, afraid of her bad influence. She was never close to her colleagues, and Saito’s kindness is attached to that moment in the station with Akechi’s horrible, bland, resigned patience when he looked at her and saw someone he couldn’t trust. He'd been hurt, no matter how he tried to hide it. She doesn’t how to face him, to know that if Shido had handed her another list of things to do against him, she would’ve done them. Because she had been given a choice between two evils and she had, she’d already…

Work as a hotel receptionist had been fine until the strings she knew had been attached reared their head. Being placed in a high-class hotel with a pretty face, a place worthy of receiving so many high-end guests that Shido placed importance on... Hinata shudders.

She doesn’t want to go back there either.

A breath in, a wet snuffle. Shion bursts out in a new wave of crying, a continuing wail that never ends. It just pauses on hiccups, little sniffles, before he draws in another large breath and cries and cries and cries.

She gives herself another minute before she breathes in deep. Hauls herself up, and drags herself over to Shion, who sees her finally looking over his crib and settles down a little. He looks uneasy though, as if he could see the monster weighing his mother down, dragged against her shoulders and through her lungs and heart and soul whispering ( _is there a point to this_ ), but Shion still willingly presses into her arms when she hauls him up.

“Why do you still love me?” Hinata asks Shion when he’s sat at the dinner table, mushy food half-eaten. She wipes his face, waiting for him to burp so they could finish the meal. Shion doesn’t answer, of course, looking happy as he always does. Hinata was blessed to have a laughing baby, all the people who’d been around her said, telling stories of their own nightmares that Shion had never done with her. Hinata has the most wonderful baby in the world they'd laugh while glancing at her from behind their hands, eyes like daggers because she knows, she knows she didn't prepare for Shion months in advance with a loving partner, she knows she isn't bringing supportive grandparents in tow, she knows, she knows, she knows - and Shion burps.

"There you go, little guy," Hinata says, taking off his bib and tossing it near the sink, wiping his face clean. She carries him for a moment afterwards, not knowing what to do, before sitting on the couch with him. The television is playing some daytime drama, of a beautiful girl being bullied because she’s attracting the attention of the most popular boy at school.

Shion burbles, rolling straight towards the lone patch of sunshine shining a square onto the couch. Hinata simply watches the TV, following the generic plot. She had been the type to be angry at these drama girls once, girls who just stood there and took it, like being a victim was a justified sacrificial thing to do to prove they’re pure and innocent. How stupid, she'd scoff, because she'd been the type to kick bullies right back in the gut because the dignity that’s preserved when you’re enduring abuse isn’t worth the pain.

Ah, but some things just aren’t that easy.

“I’m sorry you have me as your mother, Shion,” Hinata says to the television. She strokes his head and that fluffy thin hair he’s grown. Looks at the cheeks that can be chubbier while Shion plays with the lone rainbow rattle on the couch and thinks she should feel more than just the wish to go back to bed. “You deserve someone better than me.”

Shion looks up at her curiously and does a funny little shimmy so that he’s lying half in her lap. Soft and warm and trying to make her smile, wasn't he?

“You probably want to go out, don’t you?” Hinata asks, carefully turning him around so that he’s sat upright again. She thinks of the sun, burning through the sky in a wash of blue with white clouds, and thinks how a few years ago she’d gone to the beach in her cutest bikini with her then-boyfriend, revelling at the burning sand between her toes. “Sorry, mommy isn’t feeling like going out today either.”

The concrete walls around her felt like suffocation but thinking about opening the door and stepping outside felt like death.

The next time she moves, mindlessly watching whatever appeared on television, it’s because Shion’s nappy needs to be changed. Soon she's settling back down onto the couch, Shion taking a nap and she, what else is there to do.

She thinks, before thinking becomes tiring. Then she settles back into the quiet, eyes trained back on the television playing an infomercial filled with smiling, happy people, telling her that her life would be solved with one quick purchase.

Finally, sleep.

  


* * *

  
When he gets back, Akechi takes the time to rearrange his notes and plans.

Last time, if he remembered accurately, Kaneshiro had been introduced to the thieves because of Makoto Niijima. In their cursory explanations of their reasonings, they had first been reluctant to target someone as dangerous as a mafia boss until Makoto forced them into action. It was blackmail – from Makoto against the Thieves to coerce them to listen to her, and Kaneshiro against Makoto after they recklessly met him and he tried to force them into one of his scams.

This time, however, it seems like Futaba already contacted the Thieves beforehand to try and track him down. Somehow she knew that he had been entering Hinata’s Palace, and contacted the Thieves so that they could help her meet him.

He taps his pen against his desk, trying to figure this out. Changes are apt to happen, especially since he changed Futaba Sakura’s trajectory so drastically, but that doesn’t mean things need to slip out of control.

Futaba was obviously able to notice and contact the Thieves because she wasn’t suffering from debilitating guilt and trauma anymore. That’s perfectly understandable since the Phantom Thieves didn’t think about stealth until Makoto joined. 

The major question is, how did she know he was going to be at Hinata’s?

Akechi considers his phone, lying innocently on the table, before shaking his head.

No, if Futaba had found a way to his phone, she would already have sent him a few hundred messages. Considering what she said (she said she’d been searching for two years, something in the back of his mind whispers. She hadn’t moved on at all. A part of him is incredulous because somehow he didn’t expect…), she wouldn’t just leave him be if she had his private information.

Was there a hidden function in the Meta-Nav? He’s used it for nearly four years, but Akechi taps the glowing red eye anyway, entering the navigation screen. It’s as simple as usual. There’s only a search-box, search history, and a variety of input settings. Even after checking every drop-down menu, he doesn’t have an option to check the activity of other users.

 _Futaba has unknown means?_ He highlights in his notebook, before adding another note. _Go to Shujin and monitor the situation with Makoto. Her contact with the Thieves must not be interrupted. Tell Akira if need be to include her._

Secondly, Akechi frowns at the other name that he wrote down.

Takuto Maruki, Shujin Academy’s newest counsellor. Wavy brown hair, wry smile, Maruki stands with the slouch of someone not familiar with attention. His counselling license is relatively old, acquired alongside his research degree and never touched again until last year where he found himself unemployed and in need of money.

It’s a profile that is distinctly familiar.

Maruki’s name was not entirely foreign to him. There are only so many cognitive psientists in Japan and Akechi had destroyed many who had tried to protest when Shido pulled the plug on psience research. Maruki hadn’t been terminated though he was still on Shido’s ‘to watch’ list. Shido has always had a habit of being meticulous regarding his potential enemies, with Conspiracy members to spare desperate to curry favour by providing him information.

Why such a change happened… Akechi frowned.

Perhaps it had to do with his engagement with Wakaba and slowing down the results of his Metaverse explorations with Shido so drastically. In the first life he had been more than eager to show off the Metaverse’s capabilities to an appreciative Shido, leading him to pull the plug much sooner on many psience projects.

This time, Maruki’s lab had been practically approved before Shido had withdrawn his funding. Maybe that led him to later unemployment, changing the directions of his job-searching until he landed at Shujin.

Something still felt not-quite-right with that explanation, and Akechi’s knew himself enough to trust his instincts.

But how? Maruki himself had been of such low consequence – poor with no powerful supporters – that even Shido had spared him. There’s no cause to think him dangerous.

It was merely…

Akira tended to attract the right people to him. Morgana, when he needed a guide. Ryuji and Ann, when he needed support. Yusuke, when he needed a direction to fight for. Akechi, when he needed an opponent to justify himself against. Futaba, when he needed support, information and help. Makoto and Haru, when they needed causes to fight. That’s not discounting that Akira somehow bonded with shopkeepers like the Airsoft shop yakuza and the disgraced doctor in Yongen. Akechi wouldn’t be surprised if Akira had a whole slew of external contacts that Akechi didn’t know about, just by virtue of how many Arcana there were.

How coincidental that out of all the counsellors in the world, Shujin would hire an ex-cognitive psientist. 

The Arcana was not merely a miracle. They were also a guide, and Akechi didn’t believe much in coincidence.

Maruki, the very first unexplainable outlier.

Akechi frowns down at it before he sighs. It seems he needed to arrange a time to visit Shujin Academy. Perhaps this time he can call Akira in advance and meet him there. He might have good insights on Maruki’s character, having undoubtedly interacted with him already.

_‘Wait for us, Goro.”_

His words flashed in his mind.

Though he didn’t know it, Akira hadn’t needed to request something as simple as that. Akechi had been waiting for him since the very first day he came back to the past, wandering straight to LeBlanc when he still felt too old in his skin.

Perhaps they were both a little ridiculous, Akechi thinks to himself with a wry smile as he tears the paper out of the notebook and flushes it down the toilet.  


* * *

  
[Futaba: Do you guys usually wait so long?]

[Futaba: Or have you guys already forgotten about me and gone off somewhere else from your hideout?]

[Futaba: :/// ]

[Ryuji: No, he’s just late.]

[Ryuji: It’s kinda weird though. Akira’s usually pretty good with this sorta stuff.]

[Ann: He’ll get here soon, Futaba! Just wait a little while longer, okay?]

Futaba huffs, blowing a piece of her hair back from her face as she slumps back into a corner of LeBlanc’s booths. She’d slept like a log from the moment she got back home all the way until four in the afternoon, just in time to catch the Thieves for their promised meet up after school. Who would’ve known pulling out your latent psyche into a cognitive manifestation of power would be so tiring? Both Bakakami and Kirijo didn’t say anything about that. The sheer exhaustion had been enough to curb her feelings about literally getting Super-Powered Tracking Skillz literally seconds after GA shimmered out of the Metaverse but…

Futaba breathes in and holds it. Yes, yes, that’s the frustration, now blooooooow it away.

Okay. Moving on, apparently their current hideout was right in the middle of Shibuya station, which is the dumbest place to have a hideout to be honest, but they’d agreed to just meet up there and go to LeBlanc for her which earned many kudos because ugh, Shibuya right after school, _humans_.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like they’re lying about heading off somewhere without me,” Futaba mutters to herself as she checks their phone’s GPS positioning.

“You meeting up with someone, Futaba?” Sojiro asks in surprise at the bar counter, having been solving a crossword puzzle while he waited for a customer to walk through the door. Futaba hums in reply, a little preoccupied with finishing off a line of code on a small project she’s aiming to wrap up by the time they meet GA again.

“Yeah, Akira is a surprisingly nice guy and then I met his friends and now we all agreed to hang out.”

Sojiro blinks, jaw dropping open before he snaps it shut.

“O-oh, that’s nice,” he says as he pretends to stare at clue number 15, asking for a twelve-letter word that was a synonym for helping out. “Are you going to head out soon to meet them?”

“They’re meeting at Shibuya station, and I said I didn’t like crowds so they’re going to meet up there and come here instead,” Futaba replies, still distracted, and Sojiro is trying his best to appear relaxed and not be an Uncool Dad when he scribbles something that’s definitely not twelve letters long into the answer box.

“Do you like them?” Sojiro asks, nonchalant, thinking of the first time he’d failed to get Futaba to go to school after a whole week of skipping. He remembers wondering what he’s doing wrong when she only got worse and worse with keeping up a time schedule, with pasting thesis after thesis of cognitive psience on her walls, of one day realising that Futaba hadn’t spoken to anyone but himself for the past six months.

Did she finally make some friends that she'd like to hang out with?

“Yeah, they’re cool. They agreed to help me with something, so until then we’re going to team up!” Futaba exclaims, double-checking her code before saving it, switching to another screen where she notices that the Thieves are _still_ standing around Shibuya station. Apparently it’s been two minutes since Akira arrived, and Futaba huffs in annoyance.

They should quickly get this Kaneshiro guy done so they can meet with GA again so that she could memorise his signature with Necronomicon and never let him out of sight again!

[Futaba: Where are you guys?]

Another half minute passes – Ryuji usually replied quickly, so it’s with a niggling sense that something’s wrong when Futaba pulls her headphones over her ears and hooks herself onto Akira’s phone. It switches on remotely, and Futaba quickly connects the microphone to hear muted background babble, a distant announcement of a train delay, and Ann speaking. It’s nothing like how welcoming she sounded yesterday, excited to pull Futaba out for crepes (and… it didn’t even sound that bad when Ann said it, as if she was actually excited to hang out with someone like her). Ann sounded nearly stern.

“That’s why I feel sorry for you.”

“I… I know,” a foreign voice sounded. Female, kind of professional sounding, like an anime librarian who would tilt their glasses up and give you a smile and say stuff like ‘welcome back’ with a teacher-y kind of smile and the voice continues, “That’s why I would like to verify the justice you speak of. I’m the only one who knows about you. If you prove what you’re doing is just, then I’ll erase this.”

…Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second.

[Futaba: Hey, answer me!]

[Futaba: Is there someone there pulling some spicy blackmail on you guys?]

[Futaba: I mean, anyone with half a brain would find you guys suspicious like I did, but only I’m allowed to blackmail you guys!]

[Futaba: Who is this serious-sounding lady?]

The furious dings on their phone finally get someone to respond, just as the voice continues. “There is someone whose heart I want you to change.”

“And you think we’ll just listen to what you’re sayin’?” Ryuji challenges as Futaba watches some texts roll in.

[Yusuke: Akira seems to have brought a fellow student from Shujin, though it seems to be non-consensual.]

[Yusuke: She has an incriminating recording of us.]

[Futaba: >:( )

[Futaba: Find a chance to get her number and add her to this chat here.]

[Futaba: I’ll deal with this!]

Futaba sends a chat link and through her headphones she hears Yusuke interrupting the conversation.

“I understand. However, we may not be all free to meet you after school tomorrow. Although we will try our best, I wish to maintain a line of contact just in case something occurs so that nothing can pre-emptively occur.”

Hmm, hmm, Futaba nods as her fingers fly over the keyboard preparing what she’s going to do next. Yusuke had a good sincere voice, great choice. Anyway, it was this program, wasn’t it? Yeah, she hadn’t used this one in a while, but it was handy back when she was still breaking out corrupt secrets from those high-brand companies and stuff. Maybe just a little updating, now that she’s at it…

“Oh?” The other girl asks, and Yusuke affirms.

“Yes. It only makes sense that we don’t only take each other by word. And doesn’t a direct line of contact only work in your favour?”

“I see what you mean,” the girl responds. “My number, then.”

“Yusuke, what’re you doing?” Ann asks, bewildered, but it seems like Yusuke had already offered his phone because after a few seconds a new contact appears on Yusuke’s contact list, who he then adds to her chat link.

Mwehehe… Futaba presses enter on the program and watches it run as she finishes listening to that, hmm, Makoto Niijima’s offer. Wasn't she the student council president? She’s been in Shujin’s school systems before, and it’s easy to pull up her school records. Reddish eyes, brown hair, amazing grades.

Futaba whistles to herself a little. One smart cookie, huh.

“Let’s continue our talk after school tomorrow on the roof. Assuming you accept my offer, that is,” the amazing school prez says, walking away just as her program reached 100% and all the details of her phone popped onto her computer. All her notes and timetables and general data were neatly laid out in little folders and files, though it seems most of her storage was used on e-book versions of her school textbooks (which is a sort of intense that Futaba will never understand).

She loves organised people like this though, since Futaba can now easily click through to the audio files section and finds the recording in question.

“It’s nothing the Phantom Thieves can’t handle!” The recording clearly records Ryuji exclaiming.

Futaba rolls her eyes. Really, she doesn’t know how they’ve survived so long without detection.

It’s with satisfaction that she deletes the recording with a nice solid thunk on the delete key and replaces it with a recording of the same name and length that she recorded just then of her humming the Featherman Theme song.

Hehe. It’s a perfect crime.

Nothing else? She pokes around a bit, but school council president-san is kind of boring. There’s no spicy browsing history (it’s just study guides), and all the photos that were on the phone were either food or family. There don’t seem to be any backups of the recording either, so Futaba doesn’t waste any more time before detaching from the phone and checking the Thieves’ chat again.

[Yusuke: It is done.]

[Yusuke: Futaba?]

[Ann: Gosh, that was a mess. Sorry, Futaba, we made you wait longer.]

[Ann: Wait a sec, I just read your messages. What did you do?]

[Futaba: I hacked into her phone and deleted the recording, of course!]

[Futaba: I can’t have anyone harming the team before we take down Kaneshiro!]

[Futaba: Her lvl 1 security folded underneath my carefully grinded max hacking skill, dw]

[Ryuji: For real? Man, it’s kinda great to have you on our side.]

[Akira: Good job.]

[Ryuji: Yeah! You’re awesome, Futaba!]

Futaba smiles, feeling the urge to twirl a moustache that she doesn’t have when she sees the Thieves continue to praise her. Sojiro watches her with a not-so-hidden smile, hauling himself up.

“So I’m guessing they’re heading this way now? Do you want any snacks?” He asks fondly, folding the newspaper and the horribly done crossword onto LeBlanc’s counter and stretching out his shoulders when he feels how stiff they’ve become.

“Nah, not in a snacky mood today,” Futaba shakes her head. “Thanks though, Sojiro! I think we’ll all talk in Akira’s room.”

“Alright, give me a holler if you guys need anything. It’ll be on the house today,” Sojiro replies as he gets some cups ready, remembering that the blonde kid didn’t like coffee. The rest seemed to like coffee just fine, and Futaba grins.

“Hehe, you’re the best, Sojiro! It’s time to get HYPER-CAFFEINATED!”

“If you drink too much coffee, you won’t be able to fit as much curry as usual,” Sojiro gives her a reminder that kind of phases through Futaba’s consciousness because she just got a notification from one of her games that her retainers have come back with their finished missions and she has _just_ enough time to finish that off before the Thieves came back if she’s super quick about it, and Sojiro chuckles over the sound of grinding coffee beans.

Maybe that darn kid hadn’t been a bad decision after all, he thinks as he’s measuring out the coffee powder.

It might be prime time to teach him some more coffee brewing tips.  


* * *

  
“What do you think, Sae-san?” Akechi asks as they step outside Headquarters. They had checked over all the available records that the general force had collected for Yukimura’s fraud case for the majority of the late afternoon and evening. Sae had been eager to do more fieldwork lately, so it had been a little harder to pin her down for a day in the office like this, and Sae hums.

“There’s something quite strange about some of the details in Yukimura’s case file,” Sae frowns as they head towards the conveyor belt sushi that Sae liked so much in one of the streets of Shibuya. They pass a few night-time food stalls set up in street corners with their plastic covers and cheap stools, arriving at the sushi place right when the dinner rush was starting to build. There are a few people ahead of them, holding numbered tickets in their hands as they waited outside. The night has only just starting to cool down with sunset, and they wait while looking at Sae’s phone filled with key notes.

Sae continues speaking, stern and serious. “As you know, Representative Yukimura is being accused of mail fraud. His secretary was found to hold fabricated government documents with Yukimura’s signature and name approving the use of pensioner discounts for a number of organisations who deal with the elderly and the disabled who had been previously denied access.”

“Yes,” Akechi agrees. “Those unregistered organisations used the pension discounts for their normal activities for the last six months, coming up to a loss of approximately a few hundred thousand. Four of the organisations state that they received the frauded documents from Yukimura directly, while another two state they received their documents from his secretary. If it wasn’t for an anonymous tip, these six organisations would have continued their fraud scheme without notice.”

“I find it strange that Yukimura’s secretary held on to frauded documents in the first place,” Sae taps a finger against the back of her phone, staring to the side in thought. Her tone is sharp as she continues. “There’s no reason—”

“Number sixty-eight!” A man calls, and Sae visibly startles out of her train of thought as she looks down at their ticket.

“Oh, it’s us,” Sae says as she puts her phone back into a pocket of her bag, walking forward. “I’ll treat you today, Akechi-kun. I’ve noticed that you don’t usually stay out in the office so late.”

“It’s because currently, both the coma and the Phantom Thief incidents have been a little quiet lately, Sae-san,” Akechi replies pleasantly as they get ushered into two high seats facing the conveyor belt full of rotating sushi. Thin slices of fish, small pieces of rice, a few dashes of colourful sauces here and there to make the array look appetising and varied; it is undeniably cheap and Sae couldn’t look keener if she tried. She sits herself down neatly, hanging her bag on a metal hook under the table prepared to eat even as Akechi laughs a little. “Believe me, I stayed many later nights under my previous mentor.”

“I see,” Sae says as she pulls a few dishes of eel and fish roe in front of her. “That still doesn’t invalidate my thanks for your assistance. Having competent help truly makes my job easier. Especially since some of those investigative notes were… not up to par. I’ll have to investigate them again in my own time.”

They take a few moments to chew down their sushi, small enough to fit in the mouth in one bite. It's ’s a taste and company that’s undeniably nostalgic. Sae’s unrelenting professionalism, the late-night radio blaring through the speakers – it feels strangely like he stepped back to another time as she continues.

“The evidence is strong enough for prosecution, as always,” Sae says after she’s neatly swallowed another bite, eyes searching for her next plate. Salmon, by the looks of it. “It’s merely the fact that I feel like there’s some more evidence to be found.”

“Some pieces are not falling neatly into the picture,” Akechi agrees. “Yukimura’s secretary denied forging the papers. Representative Yukimura is outright denying any relation to the whole scheme in the first place. He also has no motive nor apparent material gain from this fraud, nor any prior relationship to any of the six organisations involved. There is no reason for the secretary to hold additional forged papers in his office to be found. Yet, all twenty-six people who were interviewed for their involvement have stated that Yukimura had an active part in distributing the forged papers in person.”

Sae’s frown is a ferocious one as she chews quickly through her next bite.

“What were the previous investigators doing?” Is the first thing Sae says, picking up her cup of tea with vengeance. “I expected better from the Tokyo Municipal Police Force. But… no, I shouldn’t complain when I’ve picked up the case,” Sae says as she heaves a sigh out, massaging her forehead. “I’ll just have to pick up their slack.”

“I’ll assist you as much as I can, Sae-san,” Akechi states. As dissatisfied as Sae was about the case’s information, her frustration was actually a welcome sight for Akechi.

Sae truly was one of the best of the new generation of public prosecutors, to look at all this incriminating evidence and see that someone was still wrong.

The Treasure in Sae’s Palace had been a notebook.

Specifically, as Makoto identified, the old police notebook of her father was the beginning cause of her distorted desire to succeed.

Her father, Akechi had gathered, was the reason why they’d been inspired to enter the justice system. As an investigator, their father had been killed when he went too deep, too quickly, leading to Sae’s resentment when she had to take care of her sister when she was still finishing her university studies. His death, which was the prime reason for her resentment against her father’s conception of fearless, pure justice.

Last time between the two fraud cases, Sae took Fukimi’s case instead of Yukimura’s.

Sae lost Fukimi’s prosecution because of the SIU Director, while Yukimura was indicted because Japan’s prosecution system did not truly investigate with the mentality of ‘innocent until proven guilty’. Representative Yukimura was a man in his fifties with two daughters. One was in high school, the other recently graduated with a communications degree and had become a general manager in a food-distribution company. 

Ironically, Fukimi was found later guilty of corporate collusion while Representative Yukimura appealed because there was additional evidence that proved that he was most likely innocent.

Akechi has a feeling that this is the best case to manipulate. To help Sae, who stood on the precipice just like himself, staring down a future where she threw away her ideals of justice and morality because of disillusionment from only seeing the corruption standing over her. He’s no Atsuzawa - he’s not older or more experienced. He doesn’t have the surety that both Fusa and Atsuzawa approached life to promote it the way they did.

But he’s not powerless, and he’s always had his own method of doing things.

“I’ll help you, Sae-san,” Akechi smiles pleasantly, stacking his last plate onto the growing stack in front of them and Sae polishes off her last bite as well.

“I may send over a few files to you later on for review, Akechi-kun,” Sae says as she wipes her mouth. “I know it’s just busywork, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could finish it by the end of the week.”

“My pleasure, Sae-san,” Akechi nods in agreement as they stand up to leave, Sae calling over the waiter to count their dishes for a receipt. After paying, they step out into the street to an absolutely packed street filled with people waiting to be let in, and Sae navigates through the crowds with familiarity.

“This place has always been so crowded,” Sae with a hint of exasperation.

“Perhaps we can go somewhere different the next time work drags overtime?” Akechi suggests, and Sae looks a little startled at the idea.

“That’s… No, that is a sound idea,” Sae recovers. “I haven’t been to alternative eateries for a long time. Coming here is just force of habit.”

“Habit?” Akechi echoes, and Sae gives a tiny sigh.

“We used to come here when my father worked late, my sister and I,” Sae replies shortly. “It has a lot of good memories attached to it since he was an investigator. He had many late nights.” She strides a bit quicker to reach the green pedestrian lights before they turn red, and their conversation stalls enough that she switches the topic. “Now, I believe it’s late. It is still a school night, Akechi-kun, and although I have full trust that you have a strong grasp on your timetable, I would still advise you to get a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”

Akechi laughs a little at that, nodding at Shibuya crossing that peaked out to show it's stripes at the end of the street.

“I can walk to my dorm from here, Sae-san, so I’ll take your advice. Have a lovely evening.”

Sae gives him a small smile. “You as well, Akechi-kun.”

He joins the swarm of late-night pedestrians at Shibuya crossing soon after, losing sight of Sae’s grey head of hair as she undoubtedly headed towards the station to go to Nagatacho for more late-night review.

Akechi has no doubt that she’ll find the truth. What would be interesting, he thinks as he reviews some of the notes she sent over back in his dorm, would be the aftermath. Perspective was everything, and there are a few ways that Sae can interpret the result. He merely needs to make sure she arrives at the correct one.

**Moon Rank 4 – Sae Niijima**  


* * *

  
“Check again, miss student council president,” Ryuji says with a taunting grin, and Makoto frowns as she pulls out her phone from her pocket. “We ain’t intimidated by you. You’re sayin’ you wanna check our sense of justice, but shouldn’t you check your own first?”

When Makoto plays the recording, instead of Ann and Ryuji’s conversation in the courtyard, the phone plays a slightly staticky voice of a girl humming a familiar theme. Makoto stops the recording with a strong tap to her phone.

“What did you all do?” She asks with rising anger. “Did you hack into my phone?”

“We didn’t do anything else,” Ann says with a shrug. “Besides, Ryuji’s right. It’s not very just of you to talk about our justice when you’re blackmailing us. We probably would have chased this crime lord ourselves if you just asked us instead of coming up with a threat.”

Makoto bites her lip before she narrows her eyes, squaring her shoulders. “It’s still undeniable that these gangs are targeting juveniles, some of which are Shujin Academy Students. It’s a problem that has even the police struggling, while those the gangs target increase by the day. Are you going to ignore that as the justice-filled Phantom Thieves of Heart?”

“It’s not as if we don't want to,” Morgana says in Akira’s ear in response to her demand, tail swishing as he poked his head out of his bag. “We already have a target that we promised to chase for Futaba, and if Kaneshiro really is as big of a crime lord as the Black Mask said he was, then he’d undoubtedly have a Palace. We can’t target two at once, it’s too risky.”

“We’re not ignorin’ him, we just had somebody else we were already investigatin’ before you barged in on us,” Ryuji says, scratching his head. “Someone else asked us and we already agreed, yeah? We can’t do two at once.”

Makoto’s face draws tight at that, her whole demeanour as stiff as a live wire as she glares at them.

“Very well. It seems I was mistaken about you all from the beginning. You obviously value the integrity of your name as the Phantom Thieves over the safety and welfare of your fellow students.”

Makoto visibly breathes in, trying to calm her anger.

“Akechi-kun was right. The only thing that made me doubt whether the police were justified in chasing you was my belief that you were all good people doing it for good causes. Without that,” Makoto says, red eyes resting pointedly on each of them, “the value of your organisation is clear. If I still had the recording, I would give it to the police immediately. But since I don’t, it seems like I must take matters in my own hands.”

Without another word, Makoto Niijima stalks off, and Akira frowns.

Makoto Niijima had triggered a dream just like Futaba Sakura. She’d referenced the Phantom Thieves with fondness, and had called herself ‘their chief strategist’.

It stands to reason that her request is just as important as Futaba’s, and Akira looks at Ann and Ryuji.

“Text Yusuke,” he says to them, “and we’ll meet up at LeBlanc. I’m going to follow her.”

Morgana yelps when Akira secures him over his shoulder and takes quick strides down the staircase from the rooftop back to the third corridor, where he sees Makoto Niijima power-walking down towards the student council office. It’s lucky he has longer legs, as he only just catches up to her before she enters the office, his shadow the thing that makes Makoto turn around. She’s still hostile, mouth pursed.

“What is it?”

Akira tilts his head, wondering how to phrase this.

“You were comfortable when your demands were unilateral,” Akira says blandly, the way he knew made people think he’s disinterested or unaffected. It’s a great de-fuser for tense situations when people can’t sense even an ounce of hostility, and he sees Makoto’s metaphorical hackles slowly dropping when it doesn’t seem like he was going to attack her. “But the moment matters became bilateral, you assumed the worst and left.”

“And what are you trying to say?” Makoto cuts in, chin held up in defiance. “Your friends made it clear that you have other priorities to take care of.”

“Their request is no less important than yours,” Akira states simply, and Makoto still looks unconvinced. “That’s what negotiation is for,” he says to his future friend who he had convinced to speed down an ocean highway when the moon was high and the horizon stretched unhindered into an endless nebula of stars. “We had another request before you, but that doesn’t stop you from placing a request either.”

Makoto is looking a little more contrite for blowing up now, even though she doesn’t back down. Akira has patience to spare as he stands there, immovable so long as she didn’t give an answer.

“Why are you doing this?” Morgana is hissing in his ear, but he doesn’t pay attention to him this time. His eyes are trained on Makoto, who is currently smoothing out her skirt, expression purposefully blank.

“How long do you need?”

“A month,” Akira replies, and Makoto shakes her head.

“Too long. I can wait a week.”

“Three.”

“A fortnight at the maximum,” Makoto replies, and Akira nods.

“I’ll tell the others. Come back to us in a fortnight, and we’ll see if we can help.”

Makoto’s expression has now twisted into something uncomfortable as she looks up at him.

“I… realise I may have been too hasty. Please forgive me, I’ll meet you all again in a fortnight. I have duties to attend to, so I have to leave now. Goodbye.”

Akira nods when she slips into the student council room after giving him a short bow, and walks quietly down the stairs while Morgana continues to yowl.

“A fortnight? I know we cleared Madarame and Kamoshida’s Palace really quickly, but that doesn’t give us any guarantee for Kaneshiro’s one! We only have his name, we don’t even know enough about Kaneshiro yet to guess what his cognitive distortion is, or what he’s supposedly a crime lord of! Hey, Akira, answer me!”

“Weren’t we created to save people?” Akira says simply, and Morgana falls silent. He walks down the corridors of Shujin towards the front entrance, spotting Ann’s red tights waiting at the gateway, Ryuji scrolling on his phone next to her, most likely on the Phantom Aficionado website. “She needs help.”

“But two weeks!” Morgana gives a small protest as Akira carefully skirts around the students milling around, chatting about what they wanted to do until they go home.

Akira pauses, tilting his head towards Morgana as he lets his eyes adjust to sunshine.

“Aren’t we limited by what we think impossible?” He replies, and Morgana is stumped by that.

“I mean,” he starts, before stopping. “That’s technically true,” Morgana then says, before he cuts himself off. “B-but that still doesn’t mean there aren’t limits, Joker!”

“I believe in us,” Akira says like a vow, and in it is all his convictions. That the future is shaped by their present actions, that if they wished to achieve the impossible they first had to try, and Morgana groans.

“That spirit is what I most admire about you, Joker,” he ultimately says, “but since it’s a Phantom Thief thing, let’s go back to LeBlanc and ask the rest of the Thieves what they think, alright?”

Ultimately, Yusuke smiles. “This is why I do not doubt your leadership, Akira,” he says, face at peace. “The Phantom Thieves were ultimately created to help the weak who do not have the strength to speak up for themselves just yet, for those oppressed by an oppression society permits. I’m glad you extended her request by two weeks so that we have a chance to aid her as well. Her cause is just, even though her manner is unpleasant and forceful, and we should take it on if we have the chance.”

Futaba merely shrugs, tapping away. “I mean, I’ve tried to dig up some stuff about Kaneshiro, but all I’ve got is that apparently he lurks around Shibuya and that a few journalists who were investigating the area all got punted out into non-investigative news departments.”

She looks up, adjusting her large round glasses with a wide grin. “I found a reporter with a particularly moral-free reputation who likes to go to a Shinjuku bar, so if one of you guys can check her out and see if she has info, we can probably make the two-week limit. The quicker the better anyway,” Futaba hunches, fingers flying quicker over her keyboard. “GA is probably watching somewhere, and I want us to blow his expectations out of the park and into a sizzling hot frying pan where they can sizzle and cry out in mercy because we’re too BAMF to handle.”

“You’re amazing, Futaba!” Ann exclaims, leaning against her shoulder for a second in a friendly way before backing off. “And on that note, I don’t really like her, especially since she threatened us, but… it’s true that there are gangs targeting our students. It's not about us anymore. It’s about us helping them, right?”

“As long as we aren’t getting jerked around under her thumb, I’m good,” Ryuji shrugs. “We have a target already anyway, and I trust Joker to know what to do. If he thinks we’re ready for two Palaces, we can do two Palaces.”

“Man, you guys are as carefree as ever, huh,” Morgana sighs as he leaps up onto the table. “But no objections from me. Besides, Futaba has found us our first lead already, so we don’t need to ask around Shibuya for rumours. Who wants to go to Shinjuku?”

Ann declines, not wanting to walk Shinjuku at night, while Yusuke mentions that he has an art project that has a deadline by Sunday that he must finish the last details of his prep work. Futaba body-shudders at the concept of late-night forays into the Tokyo Wilderness and Ryuji laughs.

“I’ll show ya around Shinjuku,” Ryuji pats Akira on the back. “It’s a whole different vibe from Shibuya, I tell ya! It’ll be a blast!”

“Don’t wear your uniform,” Futaba says distractedly. “The bar you need to go to is for adults only, so look mature. I doubt Ryuji can do it, but you can, probably!”

“Oi, I’m plenty mature!”  


* * *

  
Having a set schedule when he knows Futaba had some unknown means to measure Metaverse activity is not a move he’s stupid enough to take, so he does his weekly Mementos dive on a weekday instead of Sunday. It’s as dark and cold as ever as the red light fails to shine on the bright blue shine of the car in front of him, as Jose waves at him with even more excitement than usual.

“Heeey, Mister! Can you see what’s different about me today?” He asks, yellow eyes wide and teeth gleaming especially white, and it doesn’t take Akechi a second before he looks back at Jose, who looks at him expectantly.

“You’ve changed your hair,” Akechi says, and Jose beams.

“You noticed! I modelled it after yours, mister,” Jose says proudly, patting his hair. Instead of a solid grey, jagged-edged bowl placed upside down on him, like a toy whose manufacturers were too lazy to add in detail, Jose’s hair is suddenly split into thin strands just like any other human’s. The edges are still jagged, and the overall colour or style hadn’t changed. It’s just… more realistic. Detailed.

“Now I look more human!” Jose says, yellow eyes crinkled in satisfaction. “I think I took another step forward in understanding humans after I made my hair. Humans like to accessorise and decorate themselves in different ways to accentuate their individuality because they know that as a species they don’t have much variation, right? After I put it on, I felt a sense of satisfaction for the first time from accessorising myself in a way that I didn’t need to! It’s great!”

Jose swishes his head back and forth to feel his newly created hair fly around, and Akechi hums. Jose doesn’t seem to be in a rush today, content to let Akechi sit cross-legged in front of the open door of his car as he kicked his own small legs in happiness.

“You make it sound like you understand individuality differently,” Akechi queries, and Jose stops swinging his head around to stare at him, unblinkingly.

“Hmm, I’m feeling like answering this would be great for our bond, mister! You can pay me your flowers later, okay? Let me think for now…”

Jose taps his chin exaggeratedly, drumming his heels on the cushioned seats of his car.

“Perhaps um, well. Imagine you don’t have a body, mister,” Jose says. “Imagine all the people you know not having bodies either. You are now masses of pure cognition. How will you differentiate one person from the other?”

“The basic qualities of a person’s mind,” Akechi replies easily. “Personalities, values, experiences, memories. All of these would be different, person by person.”

“Okay. Imagine something like, um, something really big that everyone experiences. Like… happiness!” Jose perks up. “Everyone’s happy at least once in their lifetime. Okay, so imagine you have the cognition of your friend in front of you, and you pull everything out except for happiness.”

“The thing that’ll be left will be us,” Jose says simply, sitting back in his seat. “Pure happiness, as a concept. Other than happiness, there’s also sadness, despair, thoughtfulness. There are lots of us, and we don’t need to think about individuality, because even though we’re all cognitions we’re all fundamentally different. Of course,” Jose adds, “that’s before humans came in. You guys are a mess of things inside, you know? So you guys mixed and mashed and created a lot of new things, and while some like that person and his followers like it, another person really didn’t like it. I, for example, like humans, even though they mixed me into something that I don’t really know yet. That’s why That Person told me to understand humans, I think. Maybe after I understand what I am I can grow.”

“I’m just me,” Jose says simply. “And that’s why I’m individual. Bodies are nice, but they’re just an extension of me so it really shouldn’t matter. That’s why it was weird for me to feel so proud over my new hair!”

With another laugh, Jose starts swishing his hair back and forth again. He seems like he’d be happy to do that forever, and Akechi gives himself that time to think. It seems strange. Minato had described that he’d taken Elizabeth around Iwatodai in the real world, curious and ignorant as Jose seemed to be, before returning to the Velvet Room because of her service to Igor.

Jose has no master in Mementos. Arguably, he was the strongest being who resided here, as strange as he was, and Akechi points backwards to the elevator behind him.

“Why don’t you go outside and explore the human world on your own?” Akechi asks. “The entrance is right there.”

“I can’t,” Jose shakes his head sadly. “I’m not as sure about who I am as some others are. Like, if you come from the Great Seal, you’re probably thinking of the Rulers of Strength, right? Those siblings understand the most that strength is useless if they’re not fighting for something they believe in. That’s why they tied themselves to the That Person’s room in the first place, so that they could fight for the sake of humanity while they decided what they wanted to believe. Just like that, they became… strongest type of strong, if you get what I mean.”

He heaves a big, heavy sigh.

“But for me…”

Jose hops out of the car and tugs on Akechi’s fingers as he passes. He doesn’t drag Akechi towards the elevator this time, walking normally until they’re at the elevator. With a happy ‘ding’ the door opens, and Jose stretches out an arm.

“As you can see… Wait, huh?”

Jose looks amazedly at his arm, letting go of Akechi’s hand to wave his hand through the entrance of the elevator again.

This time, his hand directly melts the moment it goes through into particles of light. Jose’s other hand quickly clamps onto Akechi’s fingers again, and the particles of light suddenly congregate back to create back Jose’s hand.

“Oh my goodness! Mister! Did you see that?” Jose’s childish face is a picture of amazed wonder. “As you can see, I’m too scattered as a concept to be able to hold my form in the physical world. But with a Wild Card Bond tying me down, I can!”

“…Does that mean you want an excursion next time?” Akechi asks, and Jose nods frantically, before he giggles when some of his new hair flops onto his forehead.

“Yes, please! I’ll give you a free item of your choice whenever you come to Mementos if you’ll let me go with you! Please, mister!”

It seems like constant physical contact would be required for Jose’s continued survival, however, and Akechi imagines a few hours of being dragged around by Jose as he was overtaken by curiosity over everything he’d never seen, and he tries to hide how he blanches.

This is definitely an Arcana requirement, he has to tell himself a few more times before he looks down at Jose’s sparkling wide eyes, filled with anticipation.

“…Alright.”

“Yes!” Jose fist-pumps the air. “Thank you, mister! I can’t wait until it happens! I wonder what real flowers look like?”

This time, Jose even manages to drive a little more slowly as he carted Akechi down to the first portal he needed to find for Shido’s sake, singing some sort of melody that strangely didn’t stick to Akechi’s ear as much as give him a melancholic nostalgic feeling, as if the melody was something he was once familiar with but had long forgotten. He stays silent to hear it, Jose is happy to leave him be until he waves him off.

“Don’t die and stay safe until next time, mister!” Are Jose’s parting words this time, stated cheerfully, and Akechi watches as Jose happily jumps back into his car with a twirl, excitement still radiating off him in waves.

…What’s the calmest place that he knows?

Right. Inokashira Park it is.

**Magician Rank 3 - Jose**  


* * *

  
At eleven in the evening he gets a knock on his door, and when Akechi opens it he finds Yusuke Kitagawa on the other side looking thoughtful. He’s been doing that often lately, often accompanying his morning greetings with a tilt of his head, as if he’s trying to place what he’s seeing in another perspective.

It would be easy to dismiss such actions as just another manifestation of Yusuke’s quirks – of which he had many, an odd understanding of social graces being one of them – but Akechi knew better than to think so optimistically.

Yusuke Kitagawa was a formidable artist, and anyone with eyes could see his raw talent in any aspect of visual art. Akechi has talked with enough professionals to appreciate that artists have a trained eye for detail, especially when they wish to capture a moment or fleeting feeling of inspiration. 

“Kitagawa-kun? Is there anything I can help with?” Akechi asks, and all Yusuke does is take a step back. He raises his hands, framing Akechi’s features within the rectangle, before he nods to himself.

“Akechi-kun,” Yusuke asks, “may I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can,” Akechi agrees, and Yusuke hums.

“Can you please crouch like this?” Yusuke demonstrates something close to an Asian squat, and Akechi pastes a smile on his face to hide his confusion. All Yusuke does is continue squatting even through his pointed silence, looking at Akechi beseechingly. He’s right in the middle of the corridor and doesn’t look like he’s going to budge anytime soon, and Akechi laughs, hiding his expression with his hand as he's trying to understand Yusuke's angle.

Squatting. Why squatting?

“Umm, Kitagawa-kun?”

“Please, I beseech you!” Yusuke straightens up suddenly, eyes still imploring. “It’s quite necessary for my next artwork that’s due on the weekend! I have been having a dry spell as my conception of beauty has been crushed by confronting philosophical questions, and I am desperate to grasp any stroke of inspiration I find!”

This is ridiculous, Akechi thinks, even as he slowly edges himself into an Asian squat in the middle of his entryway, and Yusuke gives a wordless noise of delight as he takes a few steps back and frames the image of him, squatting there with his small shoe area at the back like he was the next coming of the Mona Lisa.

“Yes, yes! I remember now! That feeling of tension, the red moon in the sky!” Yusuke is rambling to himself as he turns away, mind in a daydream. “It is the forlorn feeling of mystery, a raven at rest as it prepares to take flight!”

Akechi stares.

“It’s a shame that you can’t equip your will of rebellion in the real world,” Yusuke is saying critically, sounding as if he’s truly disconsolate at the notion, “but I guess your sleepwear will do, even though you would be of much better help to me if you would take off your clothing…”

Akechi straightens up, ignoring the last bit of Yusuke's statement.

“A red moon?”

“Ah, yes,” Yusuke nods, having pulled a pad of paper from his pocket and already scribbling something down. “I was trying to respect your privacy, Akechi-kun, as I understand that we have a deal and we truly weren’t strong enough in your estimation. But please understand that art waits for no-one and I was in agony in front of my canvas this evening, striving for some glimmer of inspiration from any visiting muse before I remembered that you live in close proximity!”

Yusuke's expression seems entirely unconcerned over his secret identity, engrossed as he was in frowning at a conceptual scribble, and Akechi coughs lightly to get his attention. “You’re not going to tell Futaba? Or Ryuji, or Ann?” 

“Should I?” Yusuke tilts his head. “You aren’t prepared yet, are you? Besides, Akechi-kun, you are my personal benefactor. I would have asked for permission first. Now, please raise your arms.” When Akechi slowly does so, Yusuke's entire body lights up with energy. “Yes, yes! Just like that! Perfect, I can imagine it already, a crow in flight, midnight feathers gleaming in the ominous atmosphere of the unknown…”

“Thank you for keeping my identity a secret,” Akechi says to Yusuke Kitagawa, suddenly a man much more confusing than his original estimation (Yusuke had never kept secrets from the Thieves to his knowledge, not understanding the worth of doing so in the first place), but the other boy waves him off.

“We will conquer Kaneshiro and you will likely join as our new teammate,” Yusuke replies, frowning as he looked at his scribbles and compared it to Akechi, who was still standing at his doorway. “And you will have much to say. I will be glad to listen to those answers alongside the others, Akechi-kun. Now, pardon me. I need to put this down on canvas.”

And then he walks away, leaving Akechi closing the door with a surreal confusion over Yusuke’s character while simultaneously having a most bizarre confidence that the Emperor Arcana would probably awaken very, very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I ran out of time because deadlines hit me like /whoosh/ and I didn't get to write as much as I wanted. I know you guys always tell me downtime is still ok but haha. Kaneshiro/Hinata arc won't be that long - then we'll go into PHANTOM THIEF ARC. And wowie, you guys really liked last chapter XD Thank you very much for all your thoughts and opinions guys. I'm suddenly glad I've interspersed the shuake throughout the fic or my heart wouldn't be able to keep up, haha. Thanks for your kudos and comments again guys, I'm really looking forward to some of the moments I want to reach! Last week was a moment but there are others that I, gah, please don't doubt I love writing this as much as I look forward to sharing it, even though there are weeks and chapters like this where i wish I had more time hehe (the weekly schedule is important for a potato like me). But like always I take a long time to get anywhere, so please enjoy a few potato chapters since there's some stuff that need to be addressed. 
> 
> This has been a question that has been asked since... a long time ago! About Royal stuff. If this fic was written before Eng release, how is it so Royal based? Um, tldr I'll explain the whole story at the relevant chapter but I've been writing for this endgame all along, filling up gaps in the way. There has been not much loss of original ideas. Most debates are questions like *do I fill up all of Akechi's Arcana slots, because... he's going to hit a deadline soon, for example, and i'm like does it make sense for him to notice one of the arcana are slipping away or hmm @_@_@_@. but main plot-wise, it's been mainly set. I need to hammer some things out, but those are for daydreams of another day. I'll edit throughout the week guys, see you next week! ^^  
> (in which i was like @_@ at how many ishikki's i had to change so *cough. i'll just keep misspelling her name sorry. thanks for the heads up tho! Also, for anyone who read 33 on the first day, I lengthened futaba's awakening ^^)


	35. Chapter 35

Even though he promised Akira he would wait for him, that doesn't mean he couldn't do a little reconnaissance himself. He doesn't know when Futaba will awaken as a Navigator, and it always serves to be prepared when entering a new Palace.

When Akechi points a laser pointer down into the darkness, the red line merely continues onwards until it is swallowed into obscurity.

He clicks it off with a frown, leaning back onto his heels.

If he was to give a simple psychoanalysis of Hinata's conception of Hell, the descriptor would probably be _entrapment_. The buildings outside the stone barrier at first seem like a simple reflection of Tokyo City, but with a second and third assessment, it would become obvious that all the buildings are a little taller, are placed a little closer together, so that the eyes that stared out the windows were able to peer over the wall and down into the pit with dizzying claustrophobia. The moon hangs low in the sky, looming and heavy, a bright circle that shines uncomfortably close down. And most of all, Palace Rulers usually resided in their own Palaces, which meant that Hinata had placed herself into an inestimably deep, inescapable pit that both isolated and trapped her from an overly intrusive world.

But no matter how it may look like there's no entrance, Akechi is experienced enough to know that there _is_ one. Hinata does not live in an apartment without doors and windows, no matter how she has locked them. Her cognition should follow, and it's halfway around the pit does Akechi finally see something different.

A small ledge, half a metre down, only as wide as two feet placed together.

When Akechi steps down on it, he sees another ledge half a metre down in a mockery of a floating staircase. These small ledges continue downwards, and Akechi balances carefully as he slowly climbs down the side of the smooth concrete wall, until the dark sky is reduced into a circle above his head.

He is the only source of sound. The slight clink of his armour, the rustle of clothing. The slight edge of cold as wind silently slid downwards into mystery. The world echoes, and he is utterly alone.

When the sky is merely a palm wide the floating steps stop and a dark opening yawns. It leads on, just like anything else, to darkness. Akechi steps inside and stretches his legs, rotating his ankles before stepping forward. It's even colder here, Tokyo summer fled away for bone-biting chill the deeper he enters.

It's only years of instinct that allows him to ambush the first Shadow he encounters. The group of Sandmen are not difficult opponents, though it is a few shades more difficult than those he remembers from Kaneshiro's Palace.

Through this, Akechi notes the first quirks of this Palace.

The Shadows do not roam. They only stand, like sentries, in certain corners like watchdogs. Guards, completely still and silent in the dark in a way that Akechi can only vaguely sense, standing and suffering in the cold nearly stripped bare. Akira had a preternatural way of navigating the dark for occasions like these, he remembers from Sae's Palace – the skill would be useful here, Akechi thinks as he half side-steps and half unsuccessfully avoid the Shadow's radars as he continues to dive.

It's labyrinthine. The Safe Rooms few and far between as he navigates cold concrete corridors highlighted with ice formations here and there, and some large rooms that spread nearly like a plain in the faint silvery-blue light that this level has maintained throughout. Whistling wind and a few flecks of impossible snow and frost dust his soles as Akechi walks forward past frozen rooms that sometimes held files, facts, a few photographs and memories of Hinata's childhood thoughts.

He thinks he's reached the end of the first level when he sees a basic picture puzzle guarded by a large Shadow. It's the only source of true light, the frame a shining gold.

After a moment of assessing the strength of the Shadow (he can fight it by himself), he's only starting to walk forward to confront it to open the way for future infiltrations when a voice stops him.

"It's surprising to see you here, Akechi-kun."

Hinata Osumi's voice is quiet, contemplative. Akechi stops in his tracks, staying behind the cold concrete block that hid him from the Shadow's view as he turns. He only barely manages not to flinch at what he sees.

Hinata's Shadow is half rotted through. Some parts of her look frozen, the ragged clothing that may have once been a grand robe hiding what may well have been writhing with maggots. One of her eye sockets lie empty, while the other looks straight at him. Her smile is a brittle when she sees Akechi taking a few moments to marshal his thoughts.

"My father is Shinto, my mother Buddhist," she says, waving one skeletal bone-arm into the air. "The land of Yomi is a land of impurity and defilement, while the Narakas are a place for punishment. Just like how she thinks of herself."

"But you look half dead yourself," Akechi observes, swallowing his emotions in this chance to extract information.

"Yes, I am," the Shadow looks at herself. The only part of her that still looks whole, her black sheet of long hair, sweeps over her shoulder when she does so. "Disgusting, aren't I? I wonder if there is a difference in dying a social death and real death. Hinata believes there is no-one who cares about her, after all… Except you, it seems."

Hinata's Shadow eyes him again with a distant curiosity. She doesn't talk like her real counterpart at all. There is no spark of defiance that Akechi had first seen, nor that nervous hunted chatter. She is merely calm. Apathetic.

"I didn't expect you to be the Black Mask. Are you here to kill me, so that I'm out of your life once and for all?"

"...Is that how you think of me?" Akechi asks, heart a little stabbed by the implication. Hinata shakes her head.

"No. You were the only person who saw me when no-one else would, Akechi-kun. When everyone else only saw a piece of impurity they wished to get rid of, you only unhesitatingly leant me your hand, your friends, your company. And I repaid you with betrayal." Her silence is heavy when her lone eye looks away from him to the glowing frame of the puzzle in front of her. "Would you like to meet how I see you? You would have to go deeper if you do."

"To clarify, I'm not here to hurt you, Osumi-san. I'm here because I wish to save you."

"Do you?" Hinata asks a little knowingly, a little resigned, and Akechi turns away. He lets his hands clench the grip of his sword, eyes fixing themselves to the glowing, golden frame for something to look at.

"I have recently come to a personal realisation," Akechi says to the large hulking Shadow that stands absolutely still in front of the picture puzzle, frost climbing the Shadow's feet like icy webbed shackles that glimmer in the dark. "That I may have been too hasty in my reaction against you. Forgiveness… has never come easily to me. However, I understand what it feels like to see the world as a sort of hell. I do not wish that on anyone, Osumi-san."

"But you preach rehabilitation and kindness whenever you speak on justice," Hinata replies, slightly confused, and Akechi laughs. It's a harsh bark, something his fans would never hear, and Hinata blinks. Reassesses.

"Deception is my way of life, Osumi-san. I know I'm not the best person to help others like this," Akechi says as he looks back to Hinata standing there, limbs burnt and frozen and rotten, half disintegrated. "There are many more qualified than I, who would give better help."

Hinata's Shadow laughs. "But no-one's left! Who would help me?"

Akechi can't help but feel that laugh as if it was his own, staring down the Phantom Thieves.

"Me," Akechi replies solemnly.

"The one I betrayed," Hinata says, and she doesn't stop laughing. "It's curious how the world works."

Akechi wonders if this is what Akira felt, watching Akechi that day. That he saw something in Akechi that he could relate to, that desperation he had, to the pathetic picture Akechi had painted in front of him. Just like how he sees Hinata and his mother interchanged, women both taken advantage of and abandoned to the wayside.

Hinata calms down soon enough, her voice regaining its flat, calm tone.

"I won't stop you if you wish to go further, Akechi-kun," Hinata says, pointing to the frame. "The Shadow is a cognition of my manager at the hotel, and the puzzle behind it is a photograph of me when I was younger. I must go now—"

"Before you leave, Osumi-san," Akechi stops her from disappearing. "I won't be clearing your Palace today. Do you know of any deadlines that I need to know?"

Hinata tilts her head in thought before she closes her eye.

"Hinata still has one hope that she doesn't know she has," her Shadow replies. "She's used to calling her mother on her birthday, on August the 23rd. She will most likely psyche herself up to call her mother that day. If mom doesn't respond positively… I don't know what she'll do."

And with that, Hinata's Shadow takes a step back and fades from view.

  


* * *

  


Shinjuku isn't as crowded as Shibuya, though the area that Ryuji led him to was definitely of a much more mature flavour than anything he'd been to. There weren't distinct red lights or lanterns hung about like in history to designate the shift, but suddenly they had entered an area filled with host-clubs and bars, massage parlours and talent agencies and bookshops that advertised adult material alongside more conservative titles. But since the only cinema in the area was in the depths of the red-light district, there was also a cheerful mix of more normal everyday goers eager to watch a movie and eat.

"Crossroads… is here, huh?" Ryuji says, looking a little uncertain standing in front of it. "Whoa, Futaba ain't kiddin', it's an adults-only place. I thought I was prepared but it looks kinda intimindatin', huh."

Ryuji fidgets, looking honestly uncomfortable – he'd avoided wearing Shujin's uniform pants for some more comfortable tracksuit pants suited for casual workouts, but Akira knows his friend has always cared more about rules and appearances than he seemed.

"You can wait outside," Akira offers, and Ryuji makes a face.

"Man, the thought of comin' all this way to Shinjuku for me to wait outside? Nah, let's just go in."

With that Akira unceremoniously opens the door, and Ryuji squawks out a 'warn me first, dude!'. Akira ignores it, blinking against a deluge of pink décor. No, another inspection reveals it's pink-shaded lights making everything feel like he just stepped into a photo filter, and a large woman in a kimono welcomes him with a smile.

"Welcome, welcome!" She bellows happily before pausing. "…How old are you, boy?"

Akira stands there with his hand in his pockets not bothering to reply, already looking at the lone client sitting at the bar. By the camera bag she'd carefully set on the ground next to her, she seems like the reporter for the Maiasa Newspaper they were looking for. Ichiko Ohya, he remembers, and the woman seems to sense that too as she smiles at him.

"U-uh, we're totally old enough," Ryuji splutters behind him, and when the bartender raises one large, unimpressed eyebrow, the reporter laughs.

"Sorry, Lala-chan! They're with me," the reporter laughs, and Akira seems to remember her face before, in some of the strange conversations he seems to attract when he's going to school in the morning.

"Ooh, you picked up some real young ones this time… Just don't let minors drink alcohol, okay?" Lala's voice is full of a healthy dose of disapproval that simply washes off Ohya's back, waving her concern off with a laugh.

"Lala-chan, I'm going to borrow the seats in the back! Go on back there, you two," the reporter says to them both, "I'll treat you both to a nice cup of water!"

Though it's a weeknight and barely hitting the early evening, Ichiko Ohya already reeks of booze. Morgana's disgusted, his ears flat as he complains about her scent. Not an alcoholic though, Akira's thinks, because she didn't have that air of desperation that many who turned to alcohol as a solution did. That's not discounting being drunk so early wasn't unnatural as well, a time where businessmen were barely off shift

Such psychoanalysis is unnecessary though, as Akira sits quietly on a padded seat, unphased by the reporter's growing interest. In contrast Ryuji sits, awkward, two hands on his knees.

"Haha, what a surprise. I thought you guys were joking, you know, yet here you are," Ohya laughs cheerfully, swilling her cup of whiskey in her hand as she drank another gulp. Although her demeanour is drunk, her words are clear as she peers at them with a judging eye, placing her glass on the table and leaning towards them in interest. "I respect that bravery, so I'll listen to what you have to say. Well, what do you want to know so much that you emailed me on all five of my email addresses and texted both my phones... three times?"

"Futaba!" Morgana hisses with a wince, "That's too much!"

"Uh!" Ryuji says eloquently when Ohya looks at him before Akira feels a sharp elbow in his ribcage. Ow. "Dude, say something!"

Akira doesn't react to Ryuji's jab even as Ohya's look transfers to Akira. A few options flash into his mind, but ultimately he chooses the most direct one.

"Who is Junya Kaneshiro?"

"Whoa," Ohya's eyes immediately widen, most of the alcoholic haze in her demeanour miraculously disappearing. "How did you get to know that name without knowing who he is?"

"So you know who this guy is?" Ryuji perks up, and Ohya takes a sip of whiskey, giving them an assessing look.

"Hmm. Well, I do happen to know something about Kaneshiro's identity, but… Do you guys know the Phantom Thieves of Hearts? You know, that case the public has been focused on lately."

Ryuji's grin widens.

"Yeah?" He says, drawling it out like a cat who got the cream, and Akira has a sudden premonition Ryuji was going to follow up with something like 'Hell yeah we do!' and kicks him under the table. He nods to Ohya instead, whose smile has grown a tad more predatory at their antics. "Ow, what the hell dude?" Ryuji mutters.

Ohya herself looked like a cat who got the cream when her smiles widens. "I was looking into the coma incidents, but I'm lacking intel. That's why I'm currently looking for new material to write about. But.. it seems you guys have intel on the Phantom Thieves, and my instincts are rarely wrong."

"Ryuji!" Morgana hisses furiously, even as Akira faces Ohya's suddenly sharp eyes.

"Why are you asking?"

"You're a Shujin kid, right? I remember from the last time we met at the station," Ohya expands. "You probably have some insider knowledge of some kind, since Kamoshida was the start of those incidents. Some exclusive coverage from a student who suffered from his abuse would be ideal, and an introduction would be perfect since… the both of us can't seem to do our stuff out in the open. Whaddya say?"

"Mishima would probably fit the bill," Ryuji mutters quietly, and Akira turns back to nod at Ohya. She brightens up at their affirmation, a satisfied edge settled in her smile as she nods.

"It's a deal then. Send me your friend's contact info, but just one email this time is fine, okay?" It doesn't take long before Ohya leans forward. "The guy you're looking for, Junya Kaneshiro. He's the one who rules Shibuya," she says in a softer voice than before, even though the bar was empty. "I heard a good deal of bad rumours about him in the news office before I was kicked out – apparently his scams are so foolproof even the police have trouble catching him. I heard his newest scheme targets students, which has gotten him a lot of attention lately."

Ryuji listens to this with increasingly wider eyes. When they both finish their water in record time and stand back out into the open street, he turns to Akira.

"Dude, doesn't that sound like…?" Ryuji starts, and Akira nods. Morgana pops out of his bag.

"Yeah, that sounds exactly like what that Student Council President was talking about. Students are being scammed, right? Shujin is close to Shibuya. It fits."

"But it's so...?" Ryuji scratches his head.

Morgana huffs. "Coincidental? Yeah, I get your doubt, but how many crime lords can there be who're called Kaneshiro? They have to be the same person."

Ryuji thinks for a few moments more before obviously giving up, face clearing as he grins.

"Welp, no reason to think too much on it. It's good that we're hitting two birds with one stone, am I right, Akira? Let's go tell the others the good news!"

Ryuji bothers himself to text while they're walking back to the station, Morgana reprimanding him for being a danger to society even as Akira turns it over in his head.

Something didn't really strike quite right when he thought 'coincidence'.

"Oh crap, we're going to miss the next train, dude! We gotta sprint!" Ryuji hurriedly stuffs his phone in his pocket and gestures at Akira. "Come on, we gotta go!"

Akira sprints right after the red flash of his friend, the thought leaving his mind as Morgana yowls from his bag from being jostled so badly. He leaps down the last few steps right behind Ryuji's heels as they both crash into the train, the doors closing alongside Ryuji's burst of laughter as he claps Akira on the back.

"We made it! Good job, Akira!"

Akira gives Ryuji's shoulder a congratulatory punch back, even as Morgana groans.

"Ow, my poor body…"

  


* * *

  


Fusa sends him an emergency text in the middle of the morning that he reads during lunch, eating a tuna sandwich he bought from the school store. It's an urgent request, worded short and concise, and Akechi reads it until the message times out and it deletes itself from his phone.

It's a different Shinjuku karaoke this time, Fusa waiting inside and not sparing a moment for niceties before he dives straight into the topic.

"The name you provided me helped a lot – I wouldn't have guessed he was a triple agent if you didn't tell me. We're monitoring him right now to see if we can use him somehow, but thanks. On the other hand, I still haven't found the Red Lotus who might know The Cleaner's name yet, but one of my agents on the inside has told me why they're so dead set on the trafficking. How they're so confident they'll turn out a profit."

Fusa's face is disgusted when he spits out his next few words. "It's illegal organ donation. Specifically of children, though they won't deny any other convenient body coming their way. They're trafficking them to do the transplant wherever the client is."

That is... truly reprehensible, and Fusa nods in shared sympathy when Akechi's face unconsciously shows some disgust.

Akechi knows only a little about that sort of organisational crime, though he does know that even with the best organ preservation technology available, most organs didn't survive 24 hours. There was no way to cut out an organ from a live body and ship it in time for another body to receive it without extreme emergency. Trafficking only made sense, and Fusa nods sharply.

"There's always desperate people willing to fork out money and turn morals aside because of their fear of death," Fusa continues, "and even more parents who don't want to see their kid die. The Cleaner wants to get in on that. They have been very discreet with the whole process, and I've been needing more information. I _am_ the superior, so technically all I'm supposed to do is wait around, but my agent hasn't contacted me back so we can start officially make it a case. It's been two weeks since he went in, but he missed three of his checks in a row yesterday. I'm getting worried."

"Why did you contact me?" Akechi asks, and Fusa fixes him with a pointed look.

"Shido keeps you mysterious, but apparently you might have the power to infiltrate?"

Akechi raises an eyebrow. Shido, keeping him shrouded in 'mystery'?

"I've never demonstrated to Shido much range of movement when I use my… powers. So for him, it's still in a speculatory stage. But for you, Fusa-san, I will confirm. Yes," Akechi says, smile pleasant as he nods. "I can technically infiltrate any place I wish."

"Can you teach it to me?" Is Fusa's very next question, and Akechi blinks in surprise.

"That's..." Unexpected, to say the least.

Akechi takes a moment to assess Fusa who sits there in his plain, slightly ill-fitting suit just like any other government worker, leaning forward as he dips himself into a bow that is too deep.

"I know I haven't done much to prove your trust and loyalty for you to divulge your secrets, but I have… a feeling," Fusa finishes, clenching his fists with his head still bowed, "that I have to act before it's too late. Please teach me. I'll do anything in my power, my pride doesn't matter here. The lives of my agents are always my first priority."

"…You've read me wrong if you think I don't trust you, Fusa-san," Akechi says calmly, observing as Fusa sits back up, tilting his head to listen. "It's merely the fact that I don't know if I can."

Ever since he saw Futaba with the Thieves, he's harboured a suspicion. It had always confused him – why had he been able to draw Wakaba into Mementos, but had failed with Futaba? He knows that it has something to do with potential. When he pulled dozens and dozens of policemen into the Metaverse to capture Akira, there had been some that refused to enter the Metaverse no matter how he tried, while some had entered first try.

Futaba undoubtedly had the potential, but he'd failed anyway.

He had wondered before if there was a God watching over Mementos. Was it an active observer, like Pharos had been towards Minato? Was it like Nyx, a more passive entity that was still an underlying threat?

But now, Akechi is leaning towards the theory that the God was much more active than anticipated.

The app _chose_ people, if he truly thought about it. None of the policemen that had helped arrest Akira had the Metaverse Application after they'd entered Sae's Palace. Even though he entered Mementos many times now in the depths of Shibuya, although he'd been careful, to his knowledge there hadn't been once that a random stranger had walked in and disappeared.

However, time may also be a factor.

In the beginning in his very first life, he and Shido had a short stint of experimentation in trying to drag any of Shido's goons or Shido himself into Mementos. However, it had all been unsuccessful. Only after the Phantom Thieves did Shido and Akechi realise Akechi could now drag people into the Metaverse, though they had no answers as to why.

Just last week, Akechi dragged the whole Phantom Troupe in with mere proximity. They were hardly next to each other, holding hands. Nor had he been actively willing it to happen.

The one crucial factor between his failed and successful attempts at dragging Futaba into Mementos is _time_. Perhaps the Metaverse is encroaching closer and closer to reality, making it easier for people to enter, while simultaneously making it harder for the God to control who entered.

A God that seems pretty invested in Akira's deepening ventures into Mementos, by how the app was designed.

Perhaps that's what was deepening access to the core of Mementos was, unlocking a God's shackles step by step in the blundering footsteps of ignorance while it watched them, pulling them ever closer to the centre of their palm.

"To determine that, let me experiment with something, Fusa-san," Akechi asks while holding out his hand. "I need to verify something."

Fusa unhesitatingly brings his hand up to meet Akechi's, and when he pulls out his phone Fusa raises an eyebrow. At Akechi's explanation of the app, he seems rather disenchanted.

"What, even superpowers use a phone nowadays? That takes all the magic out of it," Fusa grumbles, and although Akechi secretly agrees, he couldn't deny the convenience of having it as a mere app on his phone. If it was some special bracelet or something, Shido would have long stolen it away, and the Thieves would've been caught immediately.

This time, when Akechi taps the app in his hand, Fusa doesn't disappear when the world warps. There's not much difference except the sudden silence and the monochrome, but Fusa adapts quickly. He's hardly phased when Akechi asks him to check his own phone.

As expected, no app appears on his phone.

"I can't exit and enter by myself?" Fusa asks with a frown, and Akechi shrugs.

"That's of no consequence. We'll go together."

Fusa is obviously thinking of his previous words of not involving Akechi in his messes as he primes a denial, clear by his body language. In response, Akechi widens his smile a little to make it more sincere. He waves at the absolute silence of Mementos around them, the obvious copying of their surroundings and pushes his proposal.

"Fusa-san, this is different from the requests that Shido gives me. I'm offering my services to you. And as you undoubtedly see, the Metaverse is perfect for infiltration. We'll enter the building and appear where it's necessary."

"It'll be dangerous," Fusa says first, and Akechi politely cuts him off.

"Didn't you just say the lives of your agents were your first concern? You can do what you need to, Fusa-san. Though I'm not sure I can help retrieve your agent if he doesn't have the potential to enter the Metaverse, you can't deny that I can help you infiltrate undetected. Even if it's just to verify your agent's safety."

Akechi knows he's won when Fusa glances down at his phone and doesn't see what he wants.

"…I won't make this a habit."

Akechi ignores that as he allows them to back into reality. It wouldn't do for two people who'd paid for a room to disappear after they entered, after all.

"Lead the way, Fusa-san."

  


* * *

  


"Not here," Fusa squints from where they'd carefully shimmered back into reality. They had first entered a restaurant near the outskirts of Akihabara, crowded with customers eager to eat Chinese food, and Fusa had said that his agent had joined as an outer member of the gang. He'd been given residence marked on a map that he'd shown Akechi, but all three places had turned up empty.

"Then it's only the secret part of the hideout left," Fusa squints at the instructions scribbled on the map before going to the kitchen. The Metaverse reflects most things accurately, and soon they find a large trapdoor that pulls open to reveal a wide staircase that leads down into an unsanctioned basement.

"Follow me. This place is larger than we'd expect – they've expanded a few corridors under here," Fusa says to Akechi quietly as they walk down into the hideout depths. "My agent said that this place is usually left empty in the daytime – the gang uses it mostly at night. Since we're here, I'll try get some information by myself as well."

They soon arrive at room Fusa's agent had marked as the most suspicious, only daring to shift out into reality when they've checked the reflection for security cameras.

Fusa's information holds true, however. There are no people around what they soon realise is an underground clinic. The room they materialised into has the stink of disinfectant, the gleaming impersonality of chrome and industrial metal, two surgical tables standing alongside an array of medical equipment, as well as some large undisposed boxes of trash. In one box are dirty gloves and scrubs, trashed casually. Another held a tub of surgical equipment waiting to be cleaned.

The third, the largest one, held limbs. Freshly discarded bones and flesh with skin that had grafts taken off them, and flashes of bald heads. Akechi swallows even as Fusa breathes in sharp.

 _"Sato,"_ Fusa says like it's punched out of him, eyes trained on a certain head whose hair had been too short to be chopped off and sold. Fusa looks at the corpse of his subordinate, cut into economical pieces for disposal, and closes his eyes. He's absolutely still, his face stone, taking only a moment before he goes into action. His actions are smooth as he leaves the remains where they are, going to the computer on the side of the sterilised room and plugging his chip in. The computer logs into its system by itself, whatever program Fusa is running automatically activating as he watches the screen with hard eyes.

Akechi stays silent behind him, watching for any intruders. Sees the box of limbs from the corner of his eye, and remembers a dry voice describing officers ground down and jaded, broken and tired.

It's obvious it's not the case when he observes Fusa. The corpse of Sato does not tamp down Fusa's will to fight. Instead, Akechi senses utter fury in Fusa's eyes when he pulls out his chip when it's done, eyeing the underground clinic with poorly hidden disgust. Sliding the chip carefully back into its capsule and turning to look down at the cheap plastic box holding the disposal items, Fusa carefully takes out something from his pocket alongside a glove and reaches to press whatever it is into Sato's slack mouth. After it's secure, Fusa takes off the glove and puts it all in a bag, sealing it and placing it in his pocket.

"I'll get you to your family, Sato," Fusa vows with deadly calm, gaze flinty. He proceeds to take photographic evidence with a button camera of the whole room in quick, professional angles, saying nothing more and wasting no more time. He tilts his head at Akechi in silent enquiry, and when Akechi nods to say there's no-one active security does he proceed to go out into the corridor to try the other doors. There are physical records that Fusa doesn't touch, searching for terminals similar to the first where he'd select another chip, repeating the process. They soon reach a corridor with security, and that's when Akechi reaches for Fusa's arm – tensed, hard as iron – and pulls them back into the safety of the Metaverse.

The moment they're back into the shadowed world of Mementos, Fusa wheels out of Akechi's grip and kicks a nearby carton so hard it's sent flying.

 _"Fuck,"_ Fusa hisses under his breath as he watched the carton land. "Too _late_. Sato, fuck, he just had his second kid. Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ I told him this mission would be hard to extract, but fuck, no, he just said _'I trust you boss'_ and stupid things like _'we don't know who the mole is right, but you got me'_ and look what he got. I know this group usually keep agents alive for at least a few days to extract information, this is only the second day, why? _Why?_ "

Fusa's grinding his teeth even as he stalks forward, out the way they came, through the many corridors and rooms that in another world were filled with gang and yakuza members all too willing to hide their macabre profit scheme.

"The Cleaner," he finally grinds out with hate, kicking a trash can out of the way when they pass into another corridor, ignoring the clanging sounds as they climb back up to enter the normal restaurant front. "It's a taunt, suits his style. He knows that someone is sniffing around him, and if they've killed Sato they probably have at least something that they want. Sato would never break, so what did they get? How did they get it? Sato knows better than to hold anything incriminating. What, _what?_ Sato can't tell you any more, they cut his organs into someone else, think Fusa, it's your fucking duty, _think."_

The deserted streets of Mementos out the dilapidated restaurant is relieving, as Akechi watches Fusa immediately take a deep breath when they go out into the open air. The buildings are tainted with black, red light masking Fusa's expression as he furiously mouths theories to himself. Seeing his state, Akechi doesn't attempt to get them back to the real world yet.

There's Fusa's usual anger and frustration whenever he meets Akechi. There's always a sense of exasperation underneath that anger, like Fusa was rolling his eyes at everything stupid the world threw at him.

This was none of that. This rage is fuelled by genuine grief, and it's only after a few more minutes does Fusa catch himself. He breathes hard as he turns around, lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn't apologise, though it's obvious he recollects himself even more when he sees Akechi leaning against a low railing, still in his uniform.

With a loose-fitting suit and eyes that have seen too much, Fusa breathes in. Rallies himself.

"It's a shitty world we live in, Akechi," Fusa finally says, forcefully measured.

"I know," Akechi replies because he truly did. Not all crimes ended up with such obvious dead bodies and gore, not all suffering was so easily seen, and Fusa laughs without humour.

"Don't make me think the world shittier than it already is, though I don't doubt you'd understand with a father like Shido. Fuck, I need to get back in office now, and say that he died with honour on paper," Fusa mutters to himself, "serving the country to the best of his ability. I'll make sure he gets the highest remuneration possible so that his family can live comfortably. Honour," Fusa scoffs as if the concept is trash, wandering closer so that he's leaning against the railing next to Akechi. Mementos hardly grants a great view – rubble and destruction, the faintest glimmers of some sort of animal-like bone peeking through cracks. "I've signed so many fucking certificates saying they've died or injured themselves honourably, as if it makes funerals fucking better."

"…Sometimes it does," Akechi says, and Fusa gives him a side-eye. "Death hurts more when you add pathetic cause to it. Our lives' meaning is determined by our impact in life. To die knowing your legacy robbed, your ambitions dashed…"

Fusa snorts.

"Death's death," Fusa replies bitterly. "The dead person isn't going to feel any more, no matter what you think. Whatever meaning and interpretation comes after a guy's dead comes from those who still live. And those families left behind can't eat honour, pay bills with glory. A piece of paper stating they served the country and they should be fucking proud they're dead because they kept someone else safe ain't gonna do shit to dry tears for more than half a minute. Dying with honour or dying filled with pathetic anger, there's no difference. Anything only matters when anyone's fucking _alive."_

Then, for only a moment, Fusa brings his head to his hands. He sucks in a deep breath, then two, as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. Then he decisively brings his hands down, wiping them against his pants.

"I need to file a report so I can officially start the process to apprehend The Cleaner," Fusa says to Akechi, voice back to its usual roughness, "and I have a promise to keep. Bring me back."

They walk down the street and past a corner before Akechi reaches for Fusa's arm and brings them back into reality. Colour and scents rush back into the world in a dizzying sensory storm, as Fusa checks his phone on his own volition.

No Metaverse app.

"Do you need help with… retrieval?" Akechi asks.

"No, this I can do alone," Fusa says, sliding his phone back into his pocket. His eyes have already returned back down the street where the busy restaurant had been, focus unwavering before letting his eyesight flicker naturally to something else. "Tracking where they dispose of their illegal garbage is much easier than infiltrating to the heart of their home base. It is my duty to bring my agents back, not yours. I'll bring… Sato home."

They pause, Fusa distant and Akechi observing, before Fusa gives Akechi a slight push towards the main street filled with the surreal vision of normal every day people chatting, laughing, gossiping as they went into recreational shops and cafés. The colourful gamut of clothing, neon lights, and street décor a melded history of past and present. Coffee instead of disinfectant, laughter instead of human bodies farmed and trashed, and Fusa's face is sorry.

"You saw too much," Fusa says. "This wasn't your fight, no matter how you insisted. Zane's right, a kid shouldn't face these things. But thank you," he continues. "You've given me a chance to understand the truth. To get my friend back to his family. I'm in your debt."

"I didn't mind helping, Fusa-san," Akechi says, fingers finding his gloves. Fiddling with them, adjusting them back securely over his hands before he looks up again. "The Cleaner is someone related to Shido, not only yourself, and anything regarding Shido can affect me."

Danger is only rising for Fusa's Arcana, and Fusa grimaces before he gives him a nod, neck stiff. Then he walks away, somehow melding into the crowd and disappearing from Akechi's sight in a matter of moments.

An operation like this has left Akechi on edge, and he doesn't attempt the same. He enters the Mementos again, inviting the silence and the lack of crowds as he walks to a farther station than normal.

_Anything only matters when anyone's fucking alive._

He imagines the familiar dream of Shido's corpse at his feet, face filled with fury and anger at seeing someone he once thought trash putting a bullet to his head. He thinks of the speech he once had, prepared for the moment his plan was fulfilled and he was in that moment of Shido's triumph from his election. The act of robbing a brilliant future and placing Shido below himself, crushing him under the shoe of someone he once discarded. And Akechi still feels a vicious stab of satisfaction when he thinks of Shido suffering. There would be nothing greater wrong for Shido than realising that he is not the God he thinks he's becoming. To face himself through the eyes of Akechi, watching his drunken laughs when he pulled blackmailed women to his bed, his cold-blooded approval when his opponents lied dead in front of him. To know that he is no better than the people he plays with like so many pieces of discarded trash like himself and Hinata.

As much as he's regaining what Shido once robbed from him, each step he takes does not lessen his hatred for the piece of shit father he is.

Life is a privilege, and absolute deprival means robbing him of it.

But Fusa aims to apprehend the Cleaner. The Phantom Thieves had never moved to kill, aiming to change hearts even with the risk of identification.

Was there truly such a difference between Shido's corpse, and Shido rotting away in prison?

If anyone asked him, Akechi would say no. There was no difference at all, except one had the added bonus of vengeance.

Forgiveness may be peace, but he does not think he can ever look at Shido's face, that mocking gaze as he places himself high, and forgive.

Akechi melds back into the real world and catches the subway far from their infiltration, watching. People come and go, a neverending ebb and flow of faces, skin, blood and bone. They chatter, speak, argue, laugh. Waving and blinking and squinting and pressing phones closer to their ears because humans are ultimately that.

Ever trying to reach, and ever disconnected.

**Hanged Man Rank 5 – Fusatsune Tsuchihashi**

  


* * *

  


Some afternoons it's hard to process that so much can happen in a few hours. Even the next day Akechi feels like he's walking through water despite Saito's slightly worried greeting this morning when he walked out. She's as ready as ever to offer her house as a place to rest, but Akechi declines. As much as Saito's company is a relief in many ways, she also had a way of twisting out some of his deepest thoughts, and he doesn't think his experiences with Fusa were matters to be shared.

As one of the rare days where his presence is not required at the Police Headquarters, he finds himself wandering through Shibuya immersed in his surroundings, watching people with a detachment that he hasn't felt for a long time. It's not one of Shido's missions or Loki's lingering whispers that make him take an emotional step backwards from the crowds around him.

It's the surreal realisation that the world… coexists. There's the metaphorical ninety percent of people that Atsuzawa had stated, who live their lives, go by their day with normality, distantly aware but mostly ignorant that there is utter filth of society wafting underneath their noses. It is still not a beautiful reality by far, but the problems in this surface world are far more innocent, far more benign. It's the same distance whenever he goes to school and thinks of the privilege of his peers, living life as if exams were the worst that life could throw at them, and is it, Akechi wonders. Is their peace a privilege, created by people like Fusa, the police, law enforcement and the concept of order itself?

He doesn't realise he's wandered to Shibuya crossing until he hears a familiar busking. There's cheerful music echoing over the chatter of people, and Akechi finds himself naturally looking up. He changes direction and crosses to the opposite side of the station.

It's Hikaru, bobbing to his own music as he blows a happy tune into his saxophone. It's a relatively famous cover this time, the theme song to one of last year's hit dramas, and more than a few people stand watching as he finishes with a flourish.

"Hehe, thank you, everyone!" Hikaru bows when a few people toss coins into his case, before his eyes land on Akechi and he lights up. "Goro! What a wonderful surprise! Oh whoops, I did it again," Hikaru cringes when a few people glance at him as well. This time there don't seem to be any fans interested in getting to know him or acquiring a signature, however, and Akechi approaches Hikaru uninterrupted.

"Hikaru, that was a lively performance," Akechi says, and Hikaru laughs.

"Yeah? Thanks, Goro! How have you been?"

In the slight pause where Akechi tries his best to formulate an answer that wasn't 're-evaluating the value of peaceful co-existence and processing the meaning of life', Hikaru's already glanced at his face and his expression droops into sympathy.

"Oh, one of _those_ days, huh," Hikaru says sympathetically. "Do you want company right now? I understand if you want to be alone, Goro."

"I… No," Akechi denies. "These thoughts may be better accompanied by a friend, Hikaru-kun."

"Then we'll hang out," Hikaru decisively starts detaching his reed from his saxophone. "I wanted to show you something anyway, Goro! It's something I'm working on for my ma's birthday," he grins. "I need a third ear to see if I'm not doing anything weird! You okay with giving me a few hours?"

Hikaru chatters for the whole train ride as they ride towards Ikebukuro. Misono's apartment, Hikaru says with a grin, because what's the point of working on a surprise for his mother in his own house? He fishes the keys out of his pockets with familiarity as he buzzes into a modern apartment complex, a well-dressed security guard nodding at Hikaru as they pass a water feature in the foyer lit by small white lights. Misono's apartment is the penthouse, with only two doors for the whole floor.

"Come on in, Goro!" Hikaru beams, waving him through the threshold into Misono's quite modern apartment. It's spacious and large, messy in the way that shows it's lived in, with a stark difference in levels of messiness that made it obvious that the cohabitants living in the complex had different ideas of cleanliness. The more messy parts have a few parts of Kosei's uniform, and Hikaru laughs unrepentingly when Akechi raises an eyebrow.

"I stay here whenever my da works late or my ma needs some space in the house," Hikaru shrugs. "And Misono doesn't mind since he says the space is too big for him alone, so I just crash here sometimes! Anyway, I'll show you the score!"

As expected of an apartment housing two musicians, Akechi observes a variety of musical instruments placed in random places as he walks past a large couch and widescreen television, an underwater terrarium bubbling away.

Two guitars on the side of the couch, a keyboard stand empty because the trail of cords leads to the keyboard being placed on the kitchen table. A recorder peeks out of a few cushions, and there's a grand piano whose size is definitely not a baby grand in a room that's closed off from the kitchen. Despite the piano, Hikaru beelines straight to the keyboard.

It switches on as Hikaru kneels on a dining chair to fiddle with some controls

"So the song I'm adapting is this English song my ma really likes," Hikaru says conversationally as he hands Akechi a stack of notes. "She's English, you see. My da's Japanese, and she moved over here for him. But her favourite is this song called 'Close to you' by these guys called the Carpenters, and I thought, why not adapt it for her birthday? The melody isn't that hard."

Hikaru plays a quick tune on the keyboard alongside a simple left-hand accompaniment, before he obviously gets a little distracted, deft fingers adding a few flourishes here and there until Akechi raises an eyebrow.

"I didn't know you played the keyboard as well, Hikaru-kun."

"Hah," Hikaru scratches his head sheepishly. "Well, my grandpa taught me when he was trying to bring me outta my shell. Will you believe it if I said I wasn't the happiest kid? I was kind of angsty, actually."

He laughs when he sees Akechi's disbelief, olive fingers running a little chromatic trill.

"It's true!" Hikaru insists. "I was a moody kid and I hated absolutely everybody, you know? That's why I understand a lot more than you'd expect when I see moods like yours, Goro. Pardon me if I'm assuming, of course, but you had that look on your face that… Hmm," Hikaru tilts his head, his hands playing a few more cursory notes. "It reminded me of myself," he finally says when he turns to Akechi, smile much softer than his usual brightness.

"What were you like?" Akechi asks, settling himself into a seat next to Hikaru, and the other boy shrugs.

"Well, what to say? There were some family circumstances, and I had to go live with my grandpa instead of ma and da. Back then I'd only just got here, I didn't know anything except for like, 'Sayonara' and 'Ohayo', and my grandpa didn't know a lick of English. I'd just sit there, in his house, even as grandpa tried to teach me Japanese, sulking. It was really lonely," Hikaru reminisces, "because it felt like I was the only person in the world. Even though I knew it wasn't true, I felt abandoned by my parents, you know? And grandpa was just all gobbledygook, and I wasn't like, mature enough to want to forgive him for not just magically knowing English. I… wasn't in a great place, I think."

Hikaru grimaces, and Akechi senses a lot skipped in that story. But it's obvious it's not what Hikaru is trying to focus on because he quickly moves past it.

"I felt like I was staring at a wall, like I'd never escape. And then that's when… I was thirteen? Yeah, Misono released his first album when he was fifteen. I heard it, you know, that album. I keep saying it to Misono but I don't think he understands," Hikaru says with a peaceful smile, "that his piano saved my life. That lone boy in the forest on the cover was me, and the piano being discordant and yucky and arrhythmic was me. The whole album is thirty-five minutes long, and it described me until the very end, where, you know, it ends on this delicate major scale, and it's so, so _hopeful._ As if that's where I'll go if I continued living and I started ugly crying right at the dinner table. Grandpa was so scared, haha!"

Hikaru laughs at the memory, living the moment. Akechi doesn't try to paste a smile to match it as he waits for him to continue.

"When I repeated the CD for the whole day, my grandpa drove all the way to town and came back with my very first keyboard. He didn't know how to buy them, so it was a cheap thing, but it had the full range and he started teaching me notes. That's when I finally started to accept him and took his Japanese lessons seriously," Hikaru says fondly, "and then Misono's second album was jazz-inspired and bam! I picked up a saxophone too, and that moment my heart was stolen. I learnt to play, and that wall in front of me kind of lifted, you know? Because I had a dream that I looked forward to. That I knew I wanted to achieve."

"…Is that why you asked why I had a dream?"

"Maybe a little," Hikaru replies bashfully, adjusting the volume of the keyboard to become softer before continuing to tinker along. He plays a scale absent-mindedly, up and down and up again, to fill the air. "I also just like to listen to other people's dreams you know, but well… I feel like it's easier to get trapped in your head when you don't have anything that inspires you to look _beyond_ yourself. Beyond those barriers, to face the world. And for me, dreams are my answer."

"Your saxophone practice and your music," Akechi says, thinking of Hikaru's texts. It's music, snippets, hums, saxophones, a good morning with smiley-faces drawn on musical notes, and it's a pure love that Akechi thinks he'll never understand when Hikaru nods.

"They inspire me! But not all dreams are the same, you know? Like, may I ask why you were feeling so down today, Goro?"

From Satie's _Gymnopedies_ Hikaru transitions to the melody of Hisaishi's _Spring_ , a piece that Akechi hears played everywhere there was a public piano and Akechi…

Somehow his Arcana were all so invested in his life.

"A horrid case involving children," Akechi ultimately says. "A close associate of my friend was a casualty in the operation, and I couldn't help but see the public's continued ignorance on the matter as…"

Proof of callousness, even though the public had no business knowing such things? A realisation on how disconnected people truly were? How absolutely pointless the loss of one life is, that no-one will know of one man's heroic sacrifice?

"Goro…" Hikaru says with dismay, his hands stopping on the keyboard. He reaches out and gives him a hug, and Akechi probably should have expected this with such a touchy fellow. Hikaru doesn't seem to mind that Akechi's not reciprocating as he gives him a solid squeeze. "Big hug!"

"Yes, I can feel that," Akechi replies, muffled into Hikaru's shirt, and Hikaru gives him one more squeeze before letting go.

"Your job makes it hard for you, but I still remember what your dream was from last time," Hikaru beams down at him. "Do you remember?"

It takes a few moments for Akechi to reach back so far, but when he does it rolls off his tongue awkwardly.

"See the world as beautiful?"

"Yes!" Hikaru nods, settling back down into his chair and curling himself up in it. He's folded his knees up, staring at Akechi with his dark green eyes. "It might be hard to reach right now, but I'll help! Tell me if you hate it, and I can just continue musicing at you though. Do you remember those tiny things I mentioned, Goro? Tell me one from today! A happy moment," Hikaru clarifies, and Akechi can't really think of one.

"…Meeting you."

Hikaru's smile crinkles his eyes. "Thank you! You're amazing too! Okay, my turn. Today my music teacher told me that I nailed a really hard run today! No squeaks at all when I transitioned an octave in an awkward piece of music! Made my day, hehe. Do you remember something happy from yesterday?"

Fusa, his visceral grief. When Akechi shakes his head, Hikaru nods in sympathy.

"Well yesterday, I saw this cute puppy on the street, and the owner let me take a photo," Hikaru shares, showing him his phone screen. It's a fluffy white dog, Hikaru smiling in it holding the camera in an awkwardly angled selfie. "Okay, the day before yesterday!"

A rotting smile, resigned, and Akechi shakes his head. Hikaru pats his hand.

"Well, I recorded a piece and Misono praised it. He's actually a really gentle hardass when it comes to music, so it made me so happy I cut through a whole bag of carrots without noticing," Hikaru grins.

Hikaru continues on and on – small moments, mostly. A particular sunset being beautiful, a particular composition hitting the right emotional spots. A nice profit from a busking session, Hikaru accidentally sitting through an architecture introductions course from a visiting university at Kosei and getting super interested in bridge maths. Admiring the Fibonacci series in music, Bach's Goldberg Variations blowing his mind yet again. Sitting with Misono and talking about the cultural weight and history of art and music, the kindness of a child who helped him pick up his wallet.

And when he finally fades into a silence, Hikaru pipes up again, looking thoughtful.

"I know you see a lot of bad things, Goro. Thank you for that." Akechi looks up, and Hikaru's smile is much smaller. Calm, even, his words painfully sincere. "People like you and your friend – you protect us, and that comes with a cost, because I can't even imagine the horrid things that people can create. If humans can endlessly create magical pieces of music for centuries, we can definitely endlessly create new ways to be ugly, to be bad as well. Because that's humanity. But we shouldn't forget that this also means humans endlessly create new ways to be good too, Goro, and people like me, who you've protected, can see it just a little easier. Did you see a little bit, just now? To remind you?"

Hikaru, hugging a dog, patting a bridge in appreciation, sprinting down to school late and vaulting the gate, playing an impromptu birthday piece in a restaurant to make a little girl happy after a server dropped her cake—

It doesn't solve his problems. Not by a mile, but there's something in Akechi that wants to break, for some reason, when he thinks of all of it. Hikaru's world is one filled with an optimism of people's potential to connect. That a hand out to some distanced stranger, a kind smile, a laugh, would garner a moment of shared happiness, and in some respect, in a certain perspective, that world is not a lie.

It is humanity's fault, Akechi thinks. For being so overwhelming on both sides of the scale.

"Yes, I... It helped, Hikaru-kun."

Hikaru brightens up, beaming.

"I'll help out your dream any day, Goro! Now, want to hear my arrangement? Sorry I got carried away there, haha. So it goes like this, okay. Just like the original, it starts off with piano…"

**Star Rank 5 – Hikaru Kondo**

  


* * *

  


"A strange coincidence indeed," Igor rasps from his chair, spindly fingers tapping each other as his voice sounds strangely loud in the room where Caroline and Justine had been melding Personas for Akira.

"Master?" Caroline turns around in confusion, even as Justine narrows her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing much," Igor chuckles, smile overtaking the latter half of his face. "Merely… curious, wouldn't you agree?" He asks this of Akira, who stands never forgetting the chain around his ankle.

"He's asking you, inmate!" Caroline hits the bars of his prison loudly. Akira doesn't react.

"Why do you ask?" Akira replies to Igor, and the other man shrugs.

"Merely the fact that the universe rarely presents coincidences," Igor replies. "Your rehabilitation is going well, and you are well on the path to resist ruin with the bonds you've achieved. However, what first seem like coincidences may well be fate trying to send us a message. You may wish to be careful."

Igor's voice has a faintly warning tone to it. Chiding, as if guiding a child. An underlying tone of absolute superiority, and it raises well-hidden hackles in Akira's heart. Akira has never found the Velvet Room's master to be trustworthy, something in his smile and demeanour always holding back the last laugh, an amused chuckle as Igor unceasingly stared at him being trapped in the cell that he was.

A warning… against the coincidence that Makoto and Goro's request had ultimately been the same person?

Akira narrows his eyes, and Igor raises his eyebrows when he sees it.

"Your will of rebellion is as strong as ever, I see," Igor laughs, even as Caroline does an impatient noise.

"Keep the Master's words close to your heart, Inmate!" Caroline yells, banging her stick on the bars again in a loud clang, while Justine turns around. The quieter twin clutches the pages of her clipboard for a second before a smile spreads on her face.

"Yes, his wisdom will guide you well on your path to rehabilitation," Justine ultimately says. "It will be good to heed his words. Now, have you finished any more requests with us?"

Akira leaves the Velvet Room a few Persona richer, leaving a few slots empty as he looks speculatively at the Airsoft shop. He thinks he can confront the shopkeeper about the gun he's kept in his room for the past few months now, and Morgana licks his paw.

"Why do you always stand in this corner in a daze, anyway?" Morgana asks, peering over his shoulder curiously at the rusted bicycles, a bit of trash and scattered newspapers that Akira can see past the shadow of the blue door. "Is there a secret here to make it a really good thinking spot?"

"No," Akira replies as he turns around to head to the gym. He thinks he can work up to another set of equipment soon, and Morgana huffs.

"I know you well enough to know that you're hiding something, Joker! Come on, tell me!"

Akira smirks a little when he replies again. "No."

"I'll figure it out one day!" Morgana declares as they cross the busy pedestrian street, the foreign barker stumbling less on his Japanese as he carefully bellows out slogans. Despite the busy roads of Shibuya, he notices familiar faces - he can spot the pair of pick-up artists just down the street chattering again, eyeing girls with speculative eyes, passing the shopkeeper who always sets up stall in the alleyway, who eyes him up with the look of approval he had after he read a few more fashion magazines.

"Tell me what you figure out," Akira says, and Morgana huffs.

"Okay! It's a good thinking spot because it's… quiet!"

Akira looks incredulously over his shoulder, and Morgana's ears flatten when they both pointedly listen to the hustle and bustle of Shibuya city centre.

"Yeah, that was a stupid guess. Umm, you like it because it's isolated! No-one likes going back in the creepy alley except for smoking teens and gangsters anyway."

"No," Akira says with a roll of his eyes, and Morgana nods.

"Yeah, that was a stretch, wasn't it. Lemme think, give me a second!"

Morgana guesses right throughout him chugging through a whole bottle of moist protein and lifting weights, peering at him panting on the bench in the end with an eye of curiosity.

"You've been really powering through your training lately, Joker," Morgana asks. "You've been trying to do as much training as you can with Yoshizawa, you're talking to Maruki a lot, and you've been coming here to train whenever you're not reading books. What's going on?"

Akira tries not to pant as he forces himself to wind down, his heart gradually pumping slower as he wipes his forehead with his sleeve.

"I made a promise," Akira finally says after drinking half a bottle of water, stretching a towel over his shoulders. Morgana blinks his large blue eyes, flicking an ear.

"Oh?"

"That I'll be strong enough to depend on," Akira finishes, thinking of Goro standing distant as he stood above them, black armour gleaming as his eyes looked down at their defeated figures. A distance he couldn't have breached if he'd tried, a knowledge that if Goro had wanted to run away from him, run away and straight into danger, he wouldn't have been able to stop him.

It's laughable if it's his sheer _weakness_ in comparison to Goro was what led to failing him in the future. For as much as Goro had said he wasn't alone, he had also casually admitted he was the only person who had been causing the coma incidents for the past two years.

"You're already the strongest out of all of us, Joker," Morgana deadpans, and Akira shakes his head.

Goro had said he'd wait for him, but that was hardly a promise that he'd wait forever.

There're still so many things he wanted to know about Goro Akechi, detective extraordinaire, moonlighting metaverse secret agent. The boy whose quiet laugh and disbelieving eyes had the slightest bit of wonder at Akira for believing him. A boy that, for some reason, when he woke up from dreams filled with marigolds, he felt like would slip away from his grasp to somewhere he couldn't reach.

If Goro was standing on a precipice, at a cliff's edge where he stared danger in the eye and still spat on it because that was who he is, then Akira wanted to stand next to him.

Be able to block a blow, catch him if he fell. Wanted to tell him, 'I'll be here', so that the guarded wonder he saw would never have to appear on his face again.

He senses that Goro already trusts him – enough so that he'd been the one to approach the topic, to exchange texts and explain the whole situation to him despite not needing to do so. He'd hardly spared the effort for even Futaba, someone that he seems to have a soft spot for. He'd hardly seen Goro truly sit down with anyone either, with peers or friends who if existed must be few and far between.

But Akira had always been a person who, when he cared about something, wanted _more._ More justice, in a world in want of it. More joy, for the friends he'd made.

More trust than what he held now, to have it build into something stronger, to be the first person Goro would think of when he was in trouble and needed help. He wanted Goro to know that he could place that guarded, beating heart in his hands with the knowledge Akira would kill himself first before hurting it - and to do so he had to first be Goro's equal.

"Still not strong enough," Akira says as he slides a glance at Morgana, who does a comical gulp before Akira remembers himself and places a blander expression on his face. Soon there's a hint of teasing at the edge of his expression. "If you're so curious, why not try it yourself?"

"And crush these small bones? I'm not a cat, but right now I'm shaped like one! I can hardly lift a kilo!" Morgana yelps, recovering quickly. "Though I really should ask. Now that we know that Futaba's target and that Student Council President's one is the same, should we just solve it? We can always tell her later."

"No, we'll tell her," Akira shakes his head. He hauls himself up, feeling well-spent muscles and a promising night of good sleep. "She might even have some more information on him from her angle as Council President that'll be helpful. We'll try infiltrating the Palace after that."

He ignores the looks he gets from talking to his cat as he packs his exercise wear and hauls Morgana onto his shoulder, exiting the gym to a late-night Shibuya still holding the same volumes of people as before. There are gang members now that he takes notice, in corners talking to anyone young promising a good deal who quickly slip away whenever a patrolling officer comes into view, and Akira silently slides through the crowds.

They will change it, he thinks as he looks up for stars he knows he won't be able to see. This distorted world.

  


* * *

  


"It's a medical miracle," a doctor exclaims, looking at the charts. "We've long assumed her brain dead, but for her brain activity to spike so rapidly in just a week is truly phenomenal. Moments like these make me realise just how little we've truly understood about our own bodies and processes."

Mitsuru nods at her screen, sipping a glass of wine from her favourite restaurant in Paris, the privacy and décor suitable for many she knew to sit back and relax knowing that the staff were well trained in discretion. The Eiffel Tower shines like a beacon in the dark to her right, wide streets panning out in yellow strips of light so unlike the familiar gamut of skyscrapers and white-rainbow neon of Japan. It hits her with nostalgia, suddenly, for the industrial concrete jungles and strange idiosyncrasy of historied temples and shrines nestled within.

Inextricable from thoughts of Japan are memories, shared with a group she absolutely trusted. Her best friend working hard as an actress and student, a school life rich with revelations and soul-searching and confrontations of both joy and sorrow. Fighting in the Dark Hour with Akihiko and Shinjiro in simpler times. Of afternoons of conversations with the slight smile of a boy who had never flinched away from her because of status, wealth or prestige.

She wonders if such pleasant aches ever dim as she looks over the landscape. On a stage behind her, a trio starts playing a vaguely mournful piece, the style distinctively Tchaikovsky though its exact name eluded her.

"Are you implying she will wake soon?" Mitsuru asks slowly.

"If these readings continue at the rate they are," the doctor responds with a smile that she could finally present Mitsuru with positive news, "then we project that Momoda-san will wake in the next few weeks."

Mitsuru's smile holds praise when she looks at Wakaba's doctor.

"You've done good work these past two years, Ha-sensei. Continue to monitor her and prepare our welcoming processes for when she wakes. She will doubtless be confused and disorientated, and we don't wish for any distress than necessary," Mitsuru orders, polite and sure, and the doctor bows to the screen.

"Yes, Kirijo-san. I understand."

The screen flickers off after a few more niceties and Mitsuru avoids smearing her lipstick on the glass when she takes another sip of wine. As much as she didn't wish it, Kirijo Group's success relied much on her time and energy. Without Kirijo's undoubted economic power and influence, the Shadow Operatives wouldn't have the establishment it did. Their international expansion in areas of Europe they hadn't yet reached had increased exponentially after a successful advertisement campaign, and their new domestic homewares branch had also successfully acquired the good reviews and coverage Mitsuru knew they would get. Kirijo's growth is as unimpacted by other's scandals and fluctuations, a giant silently growing larger, but it had led to many of the Shadow Operations being led by Aigis, who had reluctantly parted from Wakaba to continue chasing the ramifications of Kirijo Group's past crimes.

Whoever Futaba had named as GA was intelligent to direct Wakaba into her care. Her medical and security expenses were negligible to Mitsuru's personal account, but to any other it would have probably been a great financial burden.

When her personal assistant walks over to her for the night's last business meeting, Mitsuru speaks to her.

"Redirect any calls from Doctor Ha immediately to me. Depending on the news she gives, I may take immediate leave to fly to Japan. Be prepared to rearrange any engagements that I may have if this happens."

"I understand, Kirijo-san," her assistant bows, before politely handing her the agenda for the next meeting, and Mitsuru glances through it before passing it back. The meeting is a success – they were looking for Kirijo's partnership and had worked with her prior, and everything swiftly concludes until Mitsuru is standing in front of her car again, chauffeur having opened the door and waiting for her to get inside.

She suddenly wants to feel the tear of wind sliding harmlessly past her leather suit, hair streaming behind her as she speeds down roads so straight it's practically an invitation. A certain promise to a boy that was never fulfilled, and she sighs.

"Head back to our Kirijo villa," Mitsuru directs her chauffeur, who nods respectfully.

The vicissitudes of adulthood are subtle in their encroachment, in her way of life, speaking, views, business. But if Mitsuru had learnt anything in her life, it is the fact that despite the people who came and went in her life, those who truly mattered would always be kept close. She didn't need a daily call or a weekly catch-up to know with absolute surety that if she called in need of help, any member of SEES would drop everything they needed and run to her aid.

As cheesy as it sounds, she knows that she is kept close to their heart, as they are to hers.

"What is it, Kirijo-san?" Her personal attendant asks with a smile. "You're laughing."

"Nothing," Mitsuru says with a lingering smile. "Just reflecting on some important things."

By the look on her assistant's face, she must believe those important things are multi-million dollar deals as she respectfully subsides. She won't know that she's thinking of matters that are immeasurably more valuable to Mitsuru, and Mitsuru flicks through some meeting notes on her pad as she thinks of scheduling a time with Yukari to have a virtual girl's night.

Even though she knows she doesn't need to, it is still good for the soul to remind herself of more matters than profit, numbers and the haunting ghosts of the past.

She's missing her best friend anyway, and she, for once, has good tidings to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shevcha drew Jose and Akechi holding hands and my heart melted because jose is a precious bean even though he is lowkey ??? years old in my brain and I love him to bits. Thank you for the fluff, shevcha! I really, really like it. You're amazing! Please check it out if you wish =>  
> https://twitter.com/yescking/status/1303363208984621057?s=20
> 
> *akira becomes incredibly fit and smart and stat ranking in a short amount of time  
> akechi: holy crap nani wtf did akira become stronger so quickly *overwhelmed lowkey jealous wondering the recipe for success  
> akira: it's you
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos last chapter :D Hehe, you guys must be the most encouraging people on the planet. Some of the scenes this chapter took a lot oof to write (Hinata and Fusa take a heck lot more emotional energy than, let's say, sunshine childs Hikaru and Yusuke who just kinda flow off the fingertips), and yes, Hinata's scene last chapter was oof for me too. Depression is never an easy fight speaking as someone who had it, and i feel many realise a lot of happinesses seem to be lived only in retrospect. But that is only one type of happiness, i feel, and as Hikaru and Mitsuru and Saito and others see, the world always, always has light, somewhere, even if it seems out of reach it will be there, and as I write I truly hope Akechi will live that ideology instead of striving for it. Gambatte, Akechi! >_< Even though I'm the writer, lol. 
> 
> Thanks again! I hope this chapter is good it very plotty, I'll edit throughout the week! Next week, Yusuke, Kaneshiro, Makoto/Sae, Akira and Akechi going on a Shujin date but its rlly not a date cos they're just checking on Maruki, of course, blub. Shiho. Hopefully I have enough time to finish all of that haha 
> 
> (i was being lazy and was searching up my own story to check some past details and then i saw a tvtropes page. wow, i knew a dear reader mentioned they put this on the fanfic recs, but i didn't realise someone made a whole page. XD I had fun and a lot of nostalgia of my past self spending hours on trope pages when i read it. thank you very much!)


	36. Chapter 36

"When I find things really tiring," Shiho says candidly when he's settling down that day, "you know, with Kamoshida, and I had the energy to go somewhere on the weekends, there's this really nice park with this mountain trail. You do need to take the train for half an hour, but the view is very calm and peaceful."

Akechi turns a smile towards Shiho, who is giving her usual sweet smile at him as he set up the normal things. He'd admittedly felt a lot better after the few hours with Hikaru, but Fusa's only reply on his case was that it was still 'ongoing', and nothing much had affected Hinata's ongoing issues.

He'd tried knocking on her door again but was ignored. He could clearly hear Shion inside crying, but just like how the neighbours had said, it seemed like Hinata took more than a few minutes before checking out the situation.

Akechi distinctly remembers how Hinata cradled Shion – kept him close at the share house, zealously guarded his things. Had always kept an eye on him when she'd ever been around him, and it's an… uncharacteristic transformation.

Hinata's Shadow had already half-rotted away.

"Why are you mentioning this, Suzui-san?"

"You look like you need a break," she says with a comical squint. "Though your style looks great as ever, you should try more than grey shirts, Akechi-kun. And, well. I just had a feeling about you today."

"A feeling?" Akechi responds with a raised eyebrow, and Shiho laughs. She pats her chest with one hand with mock superiority.

"Yes, call it a woman's instinct."

There's something a little more vibrant about Shiho today, that contrasts her previous appearances that were a little shy, a little dull. She's smiling a little wider.

"Did something good happen today?"

"How did you guess?" Shiho asks brightly, before she points to a certain chart on the bedside table. "Well, since you've guessed something, Detective Prince-sama, then I'll tell you that I finished my whole rehabilitation course without breaks today."

Her smile lights up her face in a way that even shines through the stray feeling of sadness that always seems to haunt her in his past visits, and Akechi is surprised when he feels something positive at seeing it. Shiho herself gives him a giggle, reaching out to give him a poke on his arm before the smile widens.

"See? I can even sit up and do this now, when before the impact made every movement above my torso really painful. It's days like today that make me really believe that I'll… that I'll make it. That I'll overcome it. Him."

Shiho's smile wavers before she catches herself.

"Anyway, that isn't what you're here for," she tries to dismiss that moment before Akechi shakes his head. He twists his pen and readies his notes, but he makes it a point to give Shiho Suzui a smile that leaks a bit of that positivity he felt at her happiness.

"No, Suzui-san. I'm glad that you're feeling better."

Shiho grins, a little shy, hands trying to find somewhere to rest before finally settling on patting the bedsheets over her legs.

"I've always liked being outdoors, so this makes it feel like I'll be able to go out soon by myself and take a walk," Shiho says with growing enthusiasm. "I miss being able to get out of bed by myself and take a run outside whenever I want. I've never thought about how amazing legs are until now, but that makes me even more determined if only to get my parents off my back whenever I even mention wanting to walk outside."

Shiho's gaze is wistful when she looks out that bright summer sunshine out her window, as if she's keen to transform into a bird and fly outside right then and now.

"I can't feel but like it's so confining here, even though everyone's so unfailing _nice_ to me. Like I'm in a box, and… Oh no," Shiho catches herself, her hands suddenly clenching the bedsheets as she wrenches her eyes from the window. "I'm doing it again. Let's get onto your questions, Akechi-kun. You're more giving me updates now anyway."

Shiho's smile has already lost that sheen of happiness that Akechi had once walked into the room with, but Akechi senses it's not something she's ready to address just yet. He goes over the details of the case – Shiho had given permission to share Kamoshida's information with her, saying that those things were hardly the things that traumatised her – and she nods as he goes, supplementing his notes with observations or memories of her own of what Kamoshida had mentioned to her in the past.

It's a productive meeting as Akechi rearranges the information that he has while Shiho looks out the window again, across the edge of the hospital walls and across other people's rooftops.

"Akechi-kun, I'm thinking of moving to a new school," Shiho says suddenly. "I'm just… telling you before anything happens. I don't mind giving you my number if you still need a line of contact. It's just that Ann has been mentioning all the things that we can do once I'm out of here and I've been thinking of it. Like, the future."

She waves vaguely around the hospital – the large stack of magazines that only seems to grow, still filled with random drawings and comments in Ann's handwriting. The top cover is an issue where Ann is posing with sunglasses and a wink, blue eyes a call back to the shimmering blue sea behind her, and Shiho smiles fondly at it.

"I haven't even told Ann yet that I'm thinking of moving to another school," Shiho says as she threads her fingers together before letting them fall apart again. "I don't – we swore to do everything together, you know? Not only stuff like weekly crepes but university admissions, studying… But I also know she'll understand, even though she'll be disappointed. Ann is… really strong, you know."

"Do you have a timeline?" Akechi asks, and Shiho shrugs.

"They say my rehab is going really well, so maybe August, September? It really depends how my doctor sees it," Shiho replies. "It's just… I thought I'd let you know. That I might not be here."

Shiho seems aware herself that she went through a whole rollercoaster of emotions in the course of merely an hour as she shrugs herself off.

"Something feels strange when I think of not going to Shujin, not meeting Ann… But I think my thoughts will sort themselves out later. It's like that sometimes, you know? See you next week, Akechi-kun."

Shiho waves him off, already picking up the magazine with Ann on the cover as he picks up his case and prepares to leave. She doesn't seem like she wants to confront the conflict in her life just yet, even though he thinks she understands that such problems never leave.

If she doesn't want such issues to haunt her forever, she only had one choice: to confront it, and overcome all that it brings with it.

**Temperance Rank 3 – Shiho Suzui**

  


* * *

  


Aoyama-Itchome levels out into a wide street, the closest exit an escalator that leads to a string of boutique shops before there's a small street sign to head to the side where Shujin Academy resides. Streams of students dressed in various red-black plaid with white summer shirts laugh and giggle as they stream out of the alley towards the station, the afternoon sun still relatively high in the sky.

"Sorry for bothering you on a school afternoon, Akira," is what Akechi ends up greeting Akira with when he meets up with him in front of the school gates. He notices that the students still give Akira a wide berth, even though it's been a few months since he's transferred.

It would've been ample time to realise Akira's true character by now, he thinks with disdain, but he wasn't here to reflect on the idiocy of the public.

Akira shrugs, comfortable. His bag is slung over his shoulder, Akira in his summer uniform a rather nostalgic sight. Most of their friendliest times were when Akira had wiled away a few summer nights at LeBlanc trying out different ways to capture the 'essence of the bean', Akechi finding the atmosphere of the café productive as he sipped a cup and lost himself into his notes.

"I wasn't doing anything anyway," Akira replies as he turns around to head back into the building, pausing for Akechi to sign in his name and collect a visitor's tag.

"No plans?" Akechi asks in genuine surprise.

"Gym. Notice anything?" Akira says monotonously, even though his eyes are playful as he raises his arm to flex. He guesses that Akira may have become more toned, but they were both individuals built lean instead of buff. Akechi tilts his head in a pleasant smile, falling back into familiar banter.

"I suppose the gym is a great stress-reliever and a nice way to relax, Akira. Though I think you're strong enough," Akechi replies as he pins the guest badge on his coat, even as Akira shakes his head.

"Not as strong as you," Akira says simply as he leads Akira through the school, down worn corridors and past a courtyard where there seemed to be many students gathered around the gymnasium watching someone train. Some sort of professional gymnast?

"I took two years to get to where I am," Akechi says dryly. Four, if he counted time travel. "If you could catch up to me in strength so easily, I would start wondering what I was doing for all that time."

Akira's eyes slide towards him in unspoken challenge, a smirk playing around his mouth before he turns forward again, somehow still in his element despite all the gazes and the whispers that are now combined with people who recognise himself. He sees a shadow of the casual boy he knew, dressed in a loose shirt and baggy jeans, hands in his pockets with hair that curled over his eyes waiting in a wash of blinding daylight, silent as he lead on into the forest.

Now that confidence is a little sharper, pointed. Every slouch a pointed remark, every nonchalant glance a statement of rebellion as he flaunts his attitude to everyone he knows is watching.

 _'You don't affect me,'_ Akira Kurusu embodies, flat stare half-hidden by the gleam of his glasses. He slouches into the corners of his shirts, comfortable in his own skin. By doing so, he is unbreakable.

Doing what he wants, as always.

Akechi wonders when that tinge of admiration will ever be rid of the envy that's inexplicably tied to it.

They turn right, and a short walk later they stop in front of the Nurse's Office, where a frazzled young man is already standing in front of, fiddling with the chart that was hung on the door.

"Um, I think I needed to submit the rosters like this? Was that what Kawakami-sensei told me to do? Oh dear, if I don't hand in my rosters and timesheets in order, she'll really yell at me this time," Takuto Maruki mutters to himself a little frantically as he puzzles over the numbers and names that have been haphazardly scribbled onto the page.

"Maruki-sensei," Akira greets casually, not even bothering to bow or pull his hands out of his pockets, and Maruki turns and brightens up when he sees him.

"Akira-kun! Are you here for counselling, or for another talk for my research? You've been really helping me out… Oh, you have a friend," Maruki turns to greet him with a smile. "You don't look like a Shujin student."

"He's a detective," Akira introduces bluntly, and Maruki blinks in confusion as he looks at Akechi, who is still in the middle of assessing him.

Takuto Maruki is exactly as he remembers. A relatively young researcher who had big dreams of establishing his own lab, following the footsteps of Wakaba a decade late. However, instead of establishing work experience with Kirijo and finding Shido's partnership at the apex of his interest, Maruki had the bad luck of being a research intern at a university Shido had donated massive funds to, and found Shido's sponsorship right after he'd found Akechi.

Takuto Maruki, one of the few cognitive psience researchers left who weren't under Shido's thumb. Wavy brown hair, kind smile and eyes. He was the author of an intelligent series of cognitive psience papers aiming to breach the barrier between reality and cognition for the sake of trauma victims. A brief background check had revealed he was also very gullible – after being scammed and pulled into the police station for his statement, he'd pleaded for his scammer's innocence as if he'd actually believed that the man had three dying daughters and a terminally sick mother with a partner who divorced him and moved overseas with his life-savings.

"You're doing research with him?" Akechi asks Akira, who nods. Akechi turns back to Maruki with another considering thought.

Perhaps even one of Akira's Arcana.

"So what can I do for you two?" Maruki asks with a smile and a self-effacing laugh. "Nothing in my contract says I can only give counselling to Shujin's students, you know. It's more like an hourly rate thing. I confess I'm not the most experienced counsellor, but I do give it my best shot, and no-one's complained yet so I think I'm doing good."

"Let me introduce myself. I am Goro Akechi, a Detective Intern with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. I was tasked to assist with the Kamoshida case, and I was recently informed that Shujin hired a counsellor."

"Ahaha, I see," Maruki nods with a laugh and a shrug, something in his tone reinforcing some metaphorical backbone that Akechi honestly didn't spot when he replies. "I'm guessing you want to ask whether I have anything to report? I know you can force it if you must, but I want you to know that I wish the keep everyone's confidentiality if I can, Akechi-kun. I haven't noticed anything that needs to be reported, and most of the students who've come here talk about their feelings instead of Kamoshida himself." Maruki looks at Akechi with a small drooping smile, scratching his chin loudly. "I wish that can satisfy you, even though you've come such a long way to get here."

Akechi tilts his head. There's surprising steel in that warm smile.

"…No, it's fine. Akira is my friend, so if you notice anything helpful for Kamoshida's indictment, notify him. Have a nice day."

"You too!" Maruki says with a wave, forgetting that he still held one of the papers hanging from the wall in his hand and ripping it straight off. He looks at the ripped paper in his hand in horror. "Oh, oh dear," he says in dismay. "Kawakami-sensei is going to _kill me_."

"Need help?" Akira offers because of course he does. Akechi pauses from where he started to turn around for Maruki's answer, which is just a sad shake of the head.

"No, I brought this on myself," Maruki says with a sigh. "I shouldn't take up your precious afterschool time with my mistakes, especially since you have a friend over. Have a lovely afternoon, Akira-kun, Akechi-kun. Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"It's more than enough," Akechi smiles politely, giving him a short bow. "Have a nice day as well."

As they walk off, Akechi brings his hand to his chin in thought.

Confusingly, Takuto Maruki seemed… completely harmless. Economically, he's too poor to do anything. He had no known contact with any of the Conspiracy except Principal Kobayakawa and his previous research supervisor, who he was estranged from.

"May I ask if you know how he got hired, Akira?" He finally asks, and Akira blinks at him.

"No."

Then perhaps a visit to Principal Kobayakawa's Shadow then, on his weekly rounds for Shido before he lay his suspicions to rest for now.

"Do you know what he is researching, then?"

Akira's giving him a strange look for all these questions, though he still answers it.

"He's trying to use cognitive psience to treat trauma," Akira says succinctly, and that… Although Akechi could see the benefits of such research if Shido had a hold of it (if someone could change another's cognition for the sake of trauma, then it could also be used to change anyone's mind to – for example – worship Shido), the main root of the paper didn't seem malicious.

"Do you have anything you need to do soon?" Akira finally says as they pass one of the cultural club rooms – chess, it seemed like, and Akira nods to it. "Want a game?"

"I… No, I gave myself ample time just in case Maruki-sensei offered me more information than he did," Akechi replies. And enough time to find out any core beliefs and values to argue with his Shadow, if need be. "I wouldn't mind a game, Akira."

Akira has already sat himself near the window, pulling out a chessboard and quickly laying out the pieces. Black in front of him, white for Akechi, and Akechi slides into the seat opposite. The club-room is small but empty as Akira gives him a slight smile as he waits for Akechi to make the first move.

"Interesting you assume I'll want to take white," Akechi says as he skims his fingers over the heads of a few pieces. He doesn't take long – he moves his knight from behind his pawns and waits for Akira to move.

A pawn, one step forward.

Akechi moves his own pawn two steps forward, and Akira moves yet another pawn.

"Suits you, Detective Prince-san," Akira replies, eyes on the pieces. Akechi raises an eyebrow as he moves his bishop.

"So you keep the epithet, even knowing who I am?"

"You are Justice," Akira replies placidly, as he doesn't really think about his next move. He moves his own knight forward, to protect one of his pawns. "I've heard your beliefs, Goro. I will respect the fight you fight."

Akechi accepts that with a considering hum, briefly glancing up at the boy in front of him before glancing back down to consider his next move. Akechi has always used aggressive tactics in chess, and he moves his bishop forward so he's two moves away from capturing Akira's Queen, protected by his knight. Akira had a habit of unconsciously playing the field, keeping his units together and alive, and it's something that can be exploited if one is daring enough.

"...And what if I'm a liar?" Akechi asks, smiling.

Akira shrugs, moving another pawn to free his Queen. "I'll choose to believe you until you think you can tell me the truth."

The sea on his skin, blood in his mouth. In his last moments, he had thought of a soft promise, carefully given.

"Because we're friends." Akechi says, a statement more than a query and Akira nods, moving his Queen free to engage the rest of the board. Just as Akechi had expected. Akira, always keeping his pieces safe. "It's idiocy to trust a liar, Akira. I hope you know that if you ever encounter a friend who will continuously scam you that my first advice is to cut them from your relationship circle."

"Trusting a liar and believing in a friend are totally different matters," Akira says, finally glancing up to look at Akechi. The lighting shines off his glasses, Joker fully hidden in the sombre image of Akira's daily image as a serious boy. His eyes, however, remain ever attentive. "Your turn, Goro."

_Goro._

His name slides too easily from Akira's lips, Akechi thinks, as he doesn't attempt to ask why Akira places such unshakeable faith in him. He thinks he'll hear something idiotic and nonsensical, like 'I'm your friend', like that's Akira's equivalent of Jose's blanket null response 'It's hard to explain'. As if all questions regarding Akechi would lead straight back to that one fact – their friendship – and that Akira would do anything if that continues to be the case.

A few moves later, where Akechi had cornered the Queen to a corner far from the King at the expense of half his pieces, Akechi thinks of the past.

Of someone he thinks he's grown out of, for the past few years. Bitter and cold, spitting out resentments against the only boy who had ever reached out and wrenched him into caring for him. Hate, that this care came from a cruel embodiment of all he'd ever wanted to be.

Strong. Independent, surrounded by love.

_Free._

"Akira, our strange fates aside, I'm glad I met you a few years ago," Akechi says after Akira fails to save his Queen, but successfully moved his King into a defensive formation. "To gain you as a friend."

And Akira glances up at him again, downturned mouth gaining a little bit of life as he quirks one side up and nods.

They finish the game in companionable silence, Akechi winning when he manages to promote his last pawn into a Queen. The part of him that never wants to lose to Akira crows even while he maintains a humble smile on his face.

Akira seems strangely knowing though, giving him an amused glance as he merely shrugs it off and packs up the board. They wander out of Shujin together, as Akira tells him that he's read a book about Morrigan from the school library, and Akechi returns every fact that Akira with one of his own. A warrior, filled with valiant tales, blood, death, and this game continues all the way down to Aoyama-Itchome, where Akechi reverses the conversation to focus on Arséne.

Gentleman, phantom thief, and master of disguise, and written ironically by an author named Maurice LeBlanc, and Akira gives him a sly smirk at that.

  


* * *

  


"Akechi-kun," Yusuke says that night, contemplative. He walks as if the world's weight weighed on his shoulders as he muses with his head hung low. 

Akechi hums politely, face now pasted with a kind smile that's only absent-minded if one looked closely as they walked down the streets to their dorm.

Yusuke continues. "I was recently debating on something – whether to buy the chicken sandwich at the convenience store, of which I can only buy one packet, or whether I should cave and delve into the dark depths of fast food and buy fried chicken, of which the price is so cheap I can buy three pieces with the price of one chicken sandwich."

As they had literally bumped into each other in front of the convenience store, Yusuke eating out of a paper packet trying his best to not leak oil and juice down his chin, Akechi nods towards the small plastic bag in Yusuke's other hand presumably holding the other two pieces of chicken, and Yusuke nods.

"Yes, I ultimately succumbed to buying chicken for the feeling of sustenance rather than eating for true nutritional value," Yusuke says disconsolately, bizarrely elegant as he wipes his mouth. He's reaching out for another piece of chicken before his face falls. "Oh no, I can't. I need to save these for dinner."

It's 7 PM at night where they walk, dark neighbourhood streets lit up only by sparse squares behind curtains, streetlights glaring harsh white circles on the small street they walked down. It's only just turned evening – summer lingering in the dark blue edges of the horizon even so late, and Akechi makes a pointed glance that flies over Yusuke's head, by the way the other boy blinks at him.

"Kitagawa-san, it's quite late to still plan for dinner," Akechi says with a polished smile, and Yusuke looks at the sky with a small 'ah' of comprehension.

"Well, what I mean by dinner would probably be more accurately supper," Yusuke confesses. "I find myself always craving food after a long session of painting, and I find myself in the habit of saving food for late nights, even though I have been struggling with a fierce artist's block recently."

Savings? Was Yusuke Kitagawa struggling for money? Akechi can't deny he's been there before, for many years (poverty had a way of haunting ones values), though now he literally has a few hundred thousand on his card that he doesn't move. One of the accounts linked to it holds Shido's deposits that he uses sparingly, while the other is where he places his more legitimate savings – from his police work, his interviews here and there, the scholarship he's on.

"Doesn't your scholarship cover your living costs, Kitagawa-kun?" Akechi asks, and Yusuke makes a face.

"Sometimes when I calculate at the beginning of the month it feels like all my costs will be covered, but inevitably after the first week I find myself struggling to gather enough costs for my daily meals," Yusuke says in a small confused frown.

When Akechi asks how much he's usually paid, Yusuke is quite upfront with an amount that's more than enough for any student to live comfortably.

Was foul play going on?

"Admittedly, I understand why I struggled with costs this month," Yusuke continues, genuinely thoughtful. "There was a set of oils that I've set my mind on since last November, and when I saw they were in stock I immediately spent my whole monthly budget on buying the whole eighty-eight colour set with express shipping from Italy. They arrived just yesterday and their pigmentation was as satisfying as I dreamed," Yusuke says with a smile full of satisfaction. Akechi slowly revises his previous hypothesis. "Previously as well, I saw a lovely ocean-inspired sculpture made with a combination of real shells, debris picked up from the beach, and a to-scale, ingeniously detailed sculpture of a lobster on top. Struck by its aesthetic beauty, it's mysterious curves, I couldn't help but buy it right then and there, though I did struggle afterwards as I could only eat a single onigiri a day…"

Ah no, Akechi thinks as he turns his smile forward.

He's just an idiot.

"Well, I find that I haven't had dinner yet and I don't mind treating you, Kitagawa-kun," Akechi says, pointing to a few stores settled in the residential backstreets still spilling light onto the narrow pavement. There are a few businessmen clumped around the opened doors of an old izakaya, boards worn from local familiarity,. Further on, past a Chinese restaurant parked on the street corner, is a noodle place. "Would you be willing to join me for some cold soba, in light of this warm evening?"

When he looks back to his companion, Akechi barely hides a flinch by the sheer… how else could he say it? Sparkle? In Yusuke Kitagawa's eyes as he gazed down at Akechi.

"Akechi-kun, I've long known your generous character, but to even offer to treat me to a meal! I will gladly accept your generosity. I haven't had cold soba in a long time," Yusuke practically gushes. "I used to eat some home-made varieties by a fellow apprentice. Fujihara-san used to…"

Yusuke trails off uncomfortably when he mentions the name, right as they stop in front of the small soba shop. Drawing the beautifully patterned Noren out of the way, of koi joyfully splashing down the fabric curtains with a faded, vintage vibrancy, the shop owner looks up with a generic 'welcome', only for his smile to grow wider.

"Oh, if it isn't Saito's boy!" Says the old shopkeeper, slightly gummy smile wide. "I saw you helping Saito with a few bags the other day. It's nice that she has a nice young man helping her out," the man's eyes crinkle to the point that they're completely hidden in the folds and creases of his time-worn face, gesturing to the worn wooden table still free in front of his bench. The other few tables are filled with chatting adults readying to go home after work, and Akechi laughs politely.

"Thank you, Norio-san. My friend and I will be having a bowl of your cold soba please," he replies as he gives Yusuke a pointed tug of his elbow when the other boy seems entranced with the Noren, eyes following the traditional curves of the painting depicted on it.

"Ah, yes, a moment, Akechi-kun," Yusuke says. Akechi smiles a bit wider and tightens his grip on Yusuke's elbow.

With a stumble, they sit down at their table, the shopkeeper giving them an amused smile even as he hands them two glasses of cold water.

"You liked my curtains so much, son?" Norio asks behind his counter, where he's shaking out water from some soba and pouring it into two bowls. There's some cold soup that he's ladling into their bowls, alongside a handful of shallots, tempura flakes and a few boiled eggs that he cracks nonchalantly with one steady hand in his small, worn kitchen.

Despite Yusuke's self-professed hunger just a few minutes ago, he seems to have forgotten all about it now that he's found something to focus on, twisted around to keep examining the piece on the curtains.

"Yes, it's beautiful," Yusuke nods. "It seems like it was originally an ink-wash painting before being printed onto your curtains, and though the style of its strokes mimic some of the traditions that I have learnt, the lines are actually much bolder and stronger in nearly all of its linework, leading me to think it's actually a modern piece of art. Perhaps the artist was still new, or perhaps an amateur to ink-work, as lines seem to intend delicacy before returning to their bold character."

Norio whistles through the gaps in his front teeth, his wide smile only growing wider when he plonks their two bowls onto the table.

"You've got a good eye, son, you've got it in one. I'm sure my wife would be glad to hear an artist praised her work," Norio laughs a little wheezily. "Himari loved to draw, even though our lives didn't ever get better enough for me to get her any art classes, the things she'd get to when we had time! I got her that inkstone for our fifteenth wedding anniversary after scrimping for a year, and she made it last until she died with how carefully she took care of it. I have the stone in front of her shrine at home, actually."

Norio's chuckle is deep, forcing itself through old lungs, eyes cheerful.

"Well, when she died I was surrounded by all her drawings, so I decided to print her favourite as a Noren. Always liked koi. Now it's like she's greeting every customer with me!"

The shopkeeper gets distracted by a customer waving to get his attention, and he gives them a friendly grin as he leaves. Yusuke, however, has a stricken look on his face. The koi on the Noren does have abnormally thick lines, now that Akechi cares to see, and although beautiful some of the koi's fins do seem weirdly proportioned because of it.

"To think there was such a story behind this curtain," Yusuke says mournfully. "I judged too academically, too quickly. Its true worth was its sentimentality, not it's technique. Art is the embodiment of communication, but yet I truly am…"

Yusuke turns towards his bowl of soba, miserably picking up his chopsticks.

Akechi picks up his own chopsticks, though he first gives his companion a look of polite confusion.

"Why are you so upset, Kitagawa-kun?"

Yusuke looks up.

"Akechi-kun, may I ask first what you think an artist is?"

"An artist?" Akechi asks back, swirling his soba in his bowl to get the shallots and tempura flakes to intersperse equally in the bowl. There's a weight to Yusuke's gaze, however, as if he genuinely values Akechi's opinion, and Akechi raises an eyebrow on the inside. On the outside he crosses his legs, leaning an elbow on the table as he puts his head on his chin, examining his companion. "Is this related to your mood?"

"Yes," Yusuke replies, frown still on his face, staring into the brown broth of the cold soba in front of him. "I've never truly struggled, you must understand, Akechi-kun, with my art. It had always been a simple matter – while others may have agonised over their creative process, I already knew what to shape on my canvas. Beauty, the purest beauty possible," Yusuke says, and he wasn't truly present by the way his gaze seemed to look beyond the worn scratches of the table from many decades of use.

Perhaps he was seeing Sayuri, a painting which should be hanging on LeBlanc's wall in a strange merge of artistic style that only added to its unique atmosphere. Yusuke blinks, his voice wavering, continuing. "It's strange that problems have a way of haunting you – I have already strived to understand the human heart more deeply with Akira, delving into Mementos, seeing the darkness steeped within the walls of humanity's inner desires. Even with hands tainted by Madarame's influence, I've submitted a piece for an upcoming competition steeped in its despair-ridden atmosphere, of a heart dripping with hidden darknesses that never see the light…"

"Tainted?" Akechi hears something unexpected from Yusuke's lips, and perhaps the word is a little sharp for the persona he has always fronted with Yusuke, because the other boy is jerked out of his reverie in surprise.

"Y-yes? Akechi-kun, did I say something wrong?"

"Ah, no," Akechi replies, smoothing over his faux pas. "I was merely wondering what you meant by saying your hands are 'tainted' by Madarame's influence, Kitagawa-kun."

It takes a few moments for Yusuke to reply, of which Akechi uses to finally eat his soba. They're still fresh, the soy-based broth sharp and slightly citrus – perhaps a twist of yuzu – making it even more refreshing than he expected even from Saito's meandering recommendations the few times they've passed this street towards the hospital.

"We are a product of our past," Yusuke begins, bowing to rest his elbows on the low table. Hunching, as much as Yusuke Kitagawa has ever hunched. A defensive manoeuvre. "As any study of any piece of art or literature will tell you, we are all influenced by our environment, our context, of not only grand politics or the culture where we are born, but also of our personal relationships with friends, family. Those who love us, and those who we love in return impact the products we create, whether it is a painting, a sculpture, a piece of writing, or even the mere thoughts that shape a person. And Madarame – he is, he was… My. He was the embodiment," Yusuke says stiltedly, language uncharacteristically stiff, "of what I perceived of the art world. A man, who strove for art without regard to material goods. Who pursued beauty for the benefit of others around him – to inspire the viewers of his art with revelations on the mysterious purity that exists in the world. And he took that image of him and shattered it. Exploited it, and I cannot help but see his blighted influence in every stroke I make, every thought I once had of what a 'pure beauty' means."

By his voice, it felt like Yusuke Kitagawa could truly start crying then and there, over losing his conception of 'pure beauty'.

Akechi's overheard enough conversations in the past between Yusuke and Futaba when they were waiting in the hideout, as Akira mulled over this and that, discussed with Morgana or sorted through his notes to truly start the meeting, of Yusuke's passionate defence of traditional art and the beauty the 'Sayuri' embodied.

It's not only the concept of motherhood. Yusuke had loved the 'Sayuri' before the Metaverse had completed it. A pure, unaffected beauty – of someone who stood estranged from the world for one moment of tenderness. The circle of a moon, a woman smiling as she quietly looked at the face of her child with her thoughts a mystery except that those thoughts were undoubtedly loving.

"If I'm to be frank, I disagree, Kitagawa-kun," Akechi replies.

Yusuke straightens up from his bowed state, placing his hands neatly on his lap when he looks at Akechi with inquisitive eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"In your speech, you neglected to describe the role of 'self'." Akechi says, gently, softly. Carefully tucking away the ragged edges, the sharp cuts, the angry protest at thinking that everyone was merely a puppet of their past. "I may not be an artist, but I excel in my studies of Japanese literature, so your thoughts are not unfamiliar to me. So in my counterargument, I say, context may influence an individual, but _you_ are still the decisive factor."

Yusuke blinks slowly, and Akechi assesses the pure, childlike question he presents.

It is ironic, for such a pure person to doubt purity.

Akechi takes a sip of water before continuing.

"You seem to have placed yourself as someone adrift in the perceptions and beliefs of those around you, 'tainted' by your past. I believe you are an intelligent person in some aspects, Kitagawa-kun, and the moment we start critical thought is the moment we choose what affects us. We are inevitably surrounded by trash who wish to shape or oppress us," Akechi says pleasantly, swirling his chopsticks through his broth for any last piece of noodle. "And therefore we are the ones who must take responsibility for what makes us who we are."

He has discarded many, many things in life for the sake of his revenge. He never gave a thought to love, family, relationships, or a future beyond Shido's grisly death underneath his boot.

Perhaps it is the wrong choice, to choose to keep his mother important in his heart as fuel to his hatred. Perhaps choosing Shido as his one prevailing meaning in the past was wrong, as it led to his ruin.

But it had been a choice, shaped by beliefs he had found important, driven by thoughts that he validated over and over, and Akechi had always been fully prepared to face the consequences of his actions after his revenge, be it jail, death, or perhaps a lifetime dedicated to law and justice if he was never caught. The past might have bound him, but it was a free choice, the only freedom perhaps, in a world full of shackles.

To choose to continue his lonely misery, wallowing in hatred and insanity and a revenge justified and continued by his own horrendous actions may seem like a waste of time to some, but to Akechi it had been satisfying enough.

(Until Akira came, with eyes of a rebel and a stubborn, reckless, righteous spirit)

"…Do you mean rebel?" Yusuke asks after he's swallowed the mouthful of soba in his mouth, eyes clear. "Is that your will of rebellion, Akechi-kun? If it is, it is admirable," he says earnestly, before his eyes flick away back towards the koi Noren.

Blue eyes follow the swirl of water, the leap of the fish. A loving, beautiful, clumsy memento of a life.

"To immediately hone in on what you thought was an illogical fallacy in my words… Perhaps that is the instinct of a Detective. But yet, you speak truth. Regardless of how my efforts with Akira are active efforts to supplement my lack of knowledge on the human psyche, I've also placed myself as a passive bystander in regard to my past. I strive to face the future without efforts to confront the issues of my past that are their root cause. I… am truly, always, a fool."

Yusuke squeezes his eyes shut before he opens them to look at Akechi speculatively.

"I cannot imagine how busy you must be, Akechi-kun, but would you mind a favour?"

"What is it, Kitagawa-kun?"

"You first approached me because of Osamu-san falling into a coma. As you are the Black Mask, you must know where he is being held. Perhaps it is time to finally approach something I have unconsciously been reluctant to do," Yusuke says, eyes downcast. "Can you tell me where he is? I wish to visit him, since I have no idea where the rest of my fellow apprentices may be."

"I'll go with you, Kitagawa-san," Akechi agrees. "There's been a wing in a private hospital funded by the family of some of the coma patients dedicated to the care and research of their condition. It'll be easier if you accompany me for access, rather than taking a few weeks to process the paperwork and confidentiality agreements."

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Emperor** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

Yusuke breathes out.

"Thank you. We can arrange the outing next time. I wish to finish this bowl of delectable soba first," Yusuke says as he delicately picks up a lone piece of shallot floating in the bowl and chewing on it. "It is delightful, and I only wish I could eat more."

"Are you asking for seconds, Kitagawa-kun?" Akechi asks with a little amusement that he's experiencing Fox's well-known, personal brand of shamelessness.

Yusuke lights up.

"Oh, if you are offering, I would only be glad to eat a little more. Fresh, cold soba, on a summer evening in a quaint, historied diner. Debating and reflecting with a friend, feeling the warm breeze against my back – as much as this conversation has been both enlightening and confronting, it was undoubtedly pleasant as well, Akechi-kun."

"Norio-san, another bowl of cold soba please," Akechi says dryly as the man passes, and the guy grins.

"Won over by my own, special soup, ey? Coming right up!"

"My thanks," Yusuke says with a bow as he polishes the rest of his bowl, drinks the soup, sets it aside and sits straight with his eyes riveted on Norio shaking out the soba again. "Now I can set aside my fried chicken for tomorrow's breakfast instead."

Was this how Fox survived day-to-day even in the last life?

"…Do you want to accompany me for breakfast as well, Kitagawa-kun? We both head towards Shibuya Station to go to our respective schools, after all."

"Would you?" Yusuke looks excited. "Perhaps we can take that large bento box that they offer in the convenience store that I never have money to buy!"

Conversation flows strangely well as Yusuke neatly polishes off his second bowl just as quickly as the first, his thoughts rambling as they pay and leave the bright establishment into the night time streets. As tortured an artist as Yusuke Kitagawa is, his emotions fluctuate alongside his whims as Akechi listens to Yusuke talking about his future piece. He speaks while framing the sight of the white moon in the sky, a shining circle that washes everything gentle and dark. A subject, Yusuke confesses, he loves because of the Sayuri, the circle a mere rock in the sky that can transform into a symbol of tranquillity, light and hope.

Akechi returns this by saying that the fact they're seeing the moon so brightly means that there aren't enough streetlights on the road, creating a potential avenue of danger for any passing pedestrian. Despite the district's age, it's the local government's duty to create safe spaces for residents at night, and this showed infrastructural and architectural negligence.

Yusuke is delighted, to his surprise, by the difference in perspective.

"Your opinion is not tainted by material greed, just a meaning steeped in practicality," Yusuke smiles as they enter the dark dorms. It's late enough that Saito has left, but there are still dim lights enough to see each other comfortably. "Goodbye, Akechi-kun. Thank you for your time, and I look forward to our outing."

Yusuke nods at him before heading to the elevator, while Akechi takes the stairs.

Osamu Endo's notes are safely tucked away in Wakaba's Mementos Room. He also needs a valid excuse to allow Yusuke access into the hospital wing, but those are all thoughts for a later day as he feels the new hum of their fledgling bond.

  


* * *

  


"Dude, like, is she nuts or am I like, the crazy one," Ryuji says as he watches Makoto Niijima march off into the distance. "I didn't say anything wrong, right?"

"Yeah, all we said was just to stay put because she can't really help us, right?" Ann says as she chews on her lip in a little worry. "But don't you think she was kind of off there? I'm getting a really bad feeling about this."

"Hmm, it seems like she's determined to help us, even though we just told her not to," Morgana says as he squints down the busy walkway of Shibuya station. "She didn't really give us any important information either, even though we told her we wanted an information exchange."

"Prolly didn't have any," Ryuji scoffs, even as he hides a frown with quick jabs at his phone. "Anyway, we still need to figure out how that guy thinks of everyone. Come on, think guys. We know he's scammin' people, so it's prolly money related."

As the Phantom Thieves tried to figure out the Kaneshiro's keywords, Makoto's mind was whirling with a strange determination. It was a clarity that burnt through all of the doubts that had been echoing in her head after Principal Kobayakawa called her to his office for the nth time, parked in his seat threatening her sister yet again when she failed to give him a solution to how Shujin's students were being sucked into Shibuya scandals. Even though she'd warned him a month ago, like _she_ was the principal instead of him.

Of her sister when they sat down for dinner, looking a little more relaxed than usual as they had a pleasant conversation this time, something rarer and more precious as her sister was getting more swamped with her work.

She'd been mentioning Akechi-kun frequently though, as a vital source of help, especially in her recent cases. When she came back late, she'd been with Akechi at the conveyor-belt sushi they had used to go when Dad was around. When Makoto asked how her day was, Sis would say that she got through twice the usual work because Akechi had been in the office today to help her.

Even last night, when Sis had asked her about her future…

Makoto pressed her lips firmly together to prevent anything from showing on her face, storming past a few gossiping housewives as she headed towards Central Street.

"Have you given a thought about what you want to do in university?" Sae had asked in the middle of dinner, and Makoto had been so surprised that she'd nearly dropped her spoon.

"H-huh? Oh, well, not really," Makoto had replied, heart thumping at the realisation that Sae had put down her phone and was looking at her seriously.

When was the last time that happened?

She understood, of course, that her sis was busy with her job, but she did miss the days where her father was still there and Sae had been her sister more than a pseudo-mother. They didn't have late-night movies anymore, or gossip dates about their daily lives, or even just doing some shopping together without Sae feeling the need to step into shoes larger than what she's used to. To give advice, telling Makoto what to do.

No more late-night movies, because Sae needs to set an example and tell Makoto to sleep early. No more gossip, because Sae's pulling double-time to keep her position without her father there. No more shopping, because that's Makoto's sole duty now, as Sae was too busy to even cook, let alone manage the weekly budget and buy groceries when Makoto is old enough to do it alone.

The day her father died they had both lost each other as a confidant.

"Why do you ask?" Makoto continues then, trying to calm herself down from her fluster by brushing her skirt down and wiping her palms, straightening her back unconsciously when she notices her sister still looking at her.

"Well, that's because I realised a few weeks back that I never asked you for your opinion," Sae replies as she picks up some fish and chews on it quickly. She swallows it before Makoto can even blink, because that's her sister – efficient in everything she did. "Studying to go into a good university is the most important goal, but I was a little… disturbed to realise that I had no clue what aspirations you had for your future. Well?" Sae prompts as her chopsticks cleanly portion another perfectly sized bite of fish. "What are your thoughts?"

Makoto is sweating a little inside from being put on the spot (she'd expected another silent dinner, after all, where Sae would furiously type notes on her phone while Makoto kept her head down, eating the dinner she'd tried to cook how she knew Sis liked it), even though she thinks it's a happy sort of sweat as her mind races through all the things that she could say. She hasn't thought about it recently, not with the… everything that's been happening, but she takes a few moments too long because Sae is breaking out into a small smile.

"Really, I hope you're not hesitant to tell me because you're still dreaming about becoming Jackie Chan's stunt double?"

Makoto blushes to the roots of her hair.

"Sis!" She hides her face with her hands, dropping her spoon. "I'm not seven anymore! There's no point in studying so hard if I'm just going to go into the movie industry!"

"Then what do you want to do?" Sae asks with uncharacteristic patience, though Makoto would venture a guess that she only has about the time that Sae will use to finish eating her fish. She was already halfway done, so Makoto racks her brain.

"Economics, maybe?" Makoto says the first few things that jump out in her mind, thinking of the seminars she listened to in the Tokyo Uni open day. They had all been the jobs tailored with a high salary in mind after graduation, and Makoto lists them out. "Finance? Or maybe law?"

"Akechi-kun did mention that he saw you during the law lecture at Tokyo U," Sae responds warmly, and Makoto has to hide a flicker of jealousy that Akechi was barging into their conversation again. Unflappable, perfect, always ready with the perfect thing to say, and apparently a 'vital asset to the team', as Sae once said. "Was the day helpful? I noticed that you didn't say what you wanted to study."

"I… don't know. A lot of things have been happening lately," Makoto demurs, and Sae nods in understanding.

"As long as you know before the beginning of university applications, it's fine to keep your options open," Sae says on her second-last bite of fish. "Studying hard now will only benefit your choices in the future. As long as I don't hear anything negative from your teachers about your grades, I'm sure everything will work out. Don't get distracted by all the matters happening in your school. It's unlucky that all this is happening in your graduating year," Sae frowns, and the atmosphere is still friendly enough that Makoto dares to ask a question.

"Sis? Are the rumours about that scammer true?" At Sae's sharp glance, Makoto swallows before continuing to ask. "I've heard a few complaints, as the Student Council President, that's all. A few students have used the anonymous requests box requesting help."

Sae sighs in disapproval, and even when it's not directed at her something withers at hearing it.

"Yes, it's true," Sae confirms. "So don't go near Shibuya at night, and if you can, avoid it altogether even when it's after school. There have already been reports of girls from other schools who have been scammed and pulled into sex work."

"Scum," Makoto mutters under her breath, and Sae nods.

"Unfortunately, the police don't ever seem to have enough evidence to catch the criminal behind the scams," Sae says on her last bite of fish. "Keep aware."

"Okay, sis," Makoto agrees. "I've been thinking lately of the Phantom Thieves too, and the justice system. I started wondering… whether Dad would've been on their side if he was still alive."

By the way Sae stiffens up in the middle of packing away her dishes, Makoto finally crossed a line, and she winces. She should've known better – dad had been an iffy subject even before he died, having never been at home. How many nights had they complained about it together, when Sae was still high school and Makoto in her last years of primary?

Sae breathes in and calms herself.

"Don't think about such useless things," Sae ultimately says. "The only thing you need to focus on is your study. Everything else you need is provided for – food, home and clothes, and I've made sure that you're comfortable enough to only need to worry about anything else."

"I-I only meant—"

"Just keep getting high grades," Sae says, as if there was nothing else Makoto could ever do to impress her, "and prepare yourself for next year so that when you enter university, you'll be comfortable with excelling there as well. By doing well, there won't be any employer who wouldn't want to hire you and you'll finally be—"

This time it's Sae who cuts herself off, even though the both of them had already filled what she didn't say in.

_'Finally be useful'._

"Finally have a stable career trajectory," Sae finishes off after a pause, even though Makoto had long returned to looking down at her plate of food, spoon pressing dents into the fish instead of cutting it through to eat.

Makoto stays silent, and Sae sighs.

"Sorry for ruining the mood. I was just about to say that I'll be eating out for the next few weeks. With exam season approaching, I don't know if I'll get the help I need."

 _From Akechi-kun,_ Makoto fills in, and she isn't, she isn't _jealous_ of the boy who had given her perfect rebuttals for every single one of her points when she'd broached the Phantom Thief topic at him in a challenge, citing philosophical theory and separating morality into clear chunks when Makoto was still struggling with whether she agreed with capturing people who had clearly done good. Akechi has done nothing wrong except be there for her sister when she needed it, be so clearly useful when Makoto sat in her comfortable room filled with study guides and her own notes, studying from five to ten over questions that she's sure she's razed into her brain a few weeks before, feeling anything but.

Sae has always tried to hide how she felt Makoto was a leeching burden on her life, but perhaps it's genetic, Makoto thinks after Sae's safely in the shower, preparing for sleep.

Their father had been horrible at lying too.

So now, when that bleached boy had told her 'Nah, you can't help us' with the same dismissal as everyone else – when he said 'you'll be useless if you follow us', she couldn't help but feel something _erupt._

Principal Kobayakawa, shaking his head on his non-existent neck. Akechi's stupid TV-perfect smile when he replied to her questions without a pause, as if they were trivial and matters everyone else should've already figured out. Sis, and how she sometimes looked at Makoto when she thought she didn't notice, like was calculating costs, or measuring out the years of her life, and Makoto bites her lip as she reaches the bustle of Central Street.

Where were they? Where had that student mentioned he met them?

In a few moments the Thieves get a call, and Yusuke picks up his phone only to hear Makoto mutter, "This is Makoto Niijima. Just stay on the phone and listen. Make sure you record the call as well," and Yusuke's eyes widen as he hands it to Akira, who proceeds to listen with growing concern as the gangsters agree to take Makoto to… an undisclosed place.

This time, Ryuji's phone rings, and picks up by itself.

"Holy crap guys! That student council president is nuts!" Futaba yells out from the speaker, even as they'd all started to run to Central Street. "She just went and did it! Are you guys going to go after her?"

"Ugh, no matter how annoying a person is, we're not going to ignore a person in need!" Ann immediately retorts as they run up to the surface, dodging people as they tried to find where Makoto had gone.

"Fufu, as expected of the justice-oriented Phantom Thieves! Alright, I've tracked her phone GPS, so get a taxi and just follow my instructions! We can also do an anonymous tip to the police, but I don't think they'll get to the club in time to save the Student Prez if you get what I mean."

"We'll go after her," Akira says, and everyone immediately nods around him.

"Got it, leader! Now get into a taxi, you guys aren't RPG protagonists! Do you think you run as fast as a car?"

Ryuji cancels the speakerphone and holds the phone up to his ear as they all pile onto a taxi, giving out short directions to a taxi driver who couldn't care less if he was just being led around Tokyo as a joke as long as he was getting paid.

They get out in front of a rather upscale bar in the outskirts of Shibuya, and through there they sneak in through the back door where there aren't any bouncers, skirting through to the VIP section until Ryuji nods still listening to his phone, waving them down to an open door to their left. Akira faintly hears Futaba's voice asking them what they were going to do before the next guard comes around the corner in five minutes before they hear a short scream from Makoto and all thoughts fly out of all their heads.

Junya Kaneshiro speaks with a sleaze that Akira has never heard outside movies, a confidence that can only come from one that is accustomed to seeing themselves above others.

They all leave with bad tastes in their mouths, escorted by floral shirted goons with tattoos wreathing their skin in dragons and oni. They smirk at them, no doubt laughing at the three million yen scam they just watched. The goons only slouch back into the bar after they were sure that the Thieves had completely left the premises, and the Thieves slowly walk away down empty streets, thinking about what just happened in a daze.

"Oh man," Ryuji groans, kicking the air. "Three million yen? Hey, Futaba, can you do that thing again where you delete the photos?"

The phone first does a inhuman static _eeeeeeee_ sound that doesn't portent well to what their new navigator and technology whiz was going to say, and the Thieves exchange a glance.

"You stupid idiots!" Futaba finally yells in a storm of crackle and struggling speakers. Ryuji winces as he holds the phone as far away from him as possible. "I was _juust_ telling you guys to start a plan, but then you guys rush in like he's just another friendly Useless Bandit A or something! Don't you guys remember that the guy is part of an ultra-shady, super-secret Conspiracy?! What would I do if you guys all got shot? I'm a supporter class dammit, I don't have any combat skills if you guys get nuked, you, you, AAAAAAAAH!"

"Wait, what did she just say?" Makoto says with a frown, looking at the phone in question. Akira's just glad that the street is conveniently empty.

"Crap, Futaba! Did you forget that Makoto's still with us?" Ann hisses desperately, but Futaba didn't calm down.

"Do you know how much effort it'll be to identify which phone is Kaneshiro's? It won't matter anyway, because I bet he's not stupid enough to only keep one copy like Student Council Prez there! Arrrrgh! If only I could SHARE a BRAINCELL--"

"Alright, we get it," Morgana says, ears flat to his skull. "We've gotten ourselves into trouble with a deadline. Again."

"You guys haven't even guessed the last keyword to his Palace!" Futaba continues to rage, the clacking keys of her keyboard never stopping in the background.

Which, admittedly, reminded Akira of the two keywords they'd already found. Junya Kaneshiro was one, of course. The location had been 'All of Shibuya'. The third…

Akira hadn't had the chance to say it, that's all. He eyes his friends – and Makoto walking right in the middle of them all, and brings his phone to his mouth.

"Bank," he says quietly into his app, and Morgana takes a second to blink down at the phone in his hand. The blinking MetaNav. The confirmation, and then heaves a deep breath in.

Akira already has his ear far away from his bag when Morgana hollers.

"Joker! What are you doing?"

"Dude, she's still with us!" Ryuji splutters when he notices the world warping and Ann shrieks.

"Give us a warning next time!"

And Makoto blinks at the strangely green-tinted world around her, suddenly completely silent. The road is suddenly littered with used ATM banks with legs and arms attached to them, and her mouth drops open when she sees some… floating island? Flying in the distance sucking up cash?

"Now you've done it," Morgana grumbles, hopping down to the ground and crossing his arms, and Makoto turns at the foreign voice and takes a step backwards.

"A monster cat!?"

Morgana is somehow even more unimpressed.

"I'm not a cat!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oml it's nearly the end of september. I feel like this fic is literally the only thing of substance I've done the whole year XD everything else is just work bahaha, is this adulthood. On the other hand, I'm also panicking because I have an upcoming exam and um, it's intense and there will be 2 examiners who will squint at my horrible haydn and I've been lazy so I really need to get my crunch on for that, so I don't know if I can promise a chapter next week. at least this is a ok spot to stop at, so it's not like, Takaki dropping off a cliff or anything XD
> 
> But anyway, I'm trying to finish Hinata's arc by 40 so I'll try my best! I know my general theme for her (one of the consequences for betrayal is, of course, forgiveness) and spicy family related stuff. I've always been interested in exploring family, especially the grey side of it. family in media always seem to be either really wholesome or completely evil - but (speaking a little from personal exp) a lot of the time, family is just... human. Just like how Akechi's mother wasn't the devil, but also she wasn't a picture-book mother, or Madarame is a dick that also raised Yusuke from birth when he could've chucked him in an orphanage. We can and do love imperfection, because people always try their best, but 'bests' do not mean that there won't be bad judgments that linger for years and stressful days that bring the worst in us. I'm going to have a lot of fun comparing Yusuke, Akechi and someone else. Ahh... even 36 chapters in, I'm still excited to write this hahaha
> 
> Lol, sorry for the fat paragraph about nothing. See you next, next week hehe. Thank you so much for your comments and kudos (I love long comments guys dw :3. You guys are honestly hilarious - one day Akechi will look at Akira and be shook, ok, it'll be glorious. And art! - but also, I hope everyone is ok *hugs*) and haha, guys, can we believe we're nearly at 3000 kudos XD That's a lot more than I expected lol. Thank you guys for being such a wonderful community. Someone mentioned that they appreciated how the three protags are characterised in this fic, so to end this here's a hopefully funny note on how these three are to me  
>   
> Akira: outside: chill, inside: **Intense**  
>  Minato: outside: chill, inside: chill~  
> Yu: outside: chill, inside: LOL


	37. Chapter 37

Kaneshiro's Palace is ridiculously easy with Futaba and Makoto both in the party.

Futaba had reached straight for the bank's security systems when they arrived in the requisite room, downloading the maps and keeping track of the enemy whenever they arrived in a different area while disabling all the security cameras. A cackle and a flurry of clicks were all she needed to let them stroll through most of the Palace.

Makoto took to fighting like a fish to water when they arrived back to fight in Kaneshiro's Palace the day after her Awakening. After a brief study of the different techniques and combinations they had available, Makoto had quickly set them on a rotating shift with Akira in the centre of their strategies, trying out different elements, combos, strengths and weaknesses until she was the one to call out different enemy archetypes, eyes sharp as she summoned Johanna.

"Frei!" She would yell, ripping her mask off in a white blast of energy that usually knocked their enemy off their feet. Queen's smile was always edged with satisfaction when she dove in for an all-out-attack.

"Okay, we've reached the deepest layer, guys!" Futaba calls as they descend an elevator down into what seemed like a labyrinth. "See that circle in the middle? That's where the Treasure most probably is, by the looks of it."

"I mean, that's what I was going to say," Morgana mutters with his ears flat against his head, though his mutter is mostly unheard when the Thieves crowd to squint at the middle of the labyrinth.

"Holy, we're already in the deepest level?" Ryuji splutters. "Man, we're so amazing today!"

"But man, are all of these vaults?" Ann squints at all the vaults spread out underneath them. "How many people has he scammed for him to have so many?"

"He's messed up," Ryuji spits.

"This only makes me glad that we are targeting this man," Yusuke frowns deeply as they take in just how extensive Kaneshiro's crimes were. "He is truly a predator within society, exploiting the weak for nothing but, it seems, to feed his own ego."

"This reminds me though… Could it be?" Makoto squints at the labyrinth's structure.

"What're you thinking, Queen?" Futaba asks cheerfully, and Makoto hums.

"I'll tell you when I confirm it," Makoto steps back from the glass of the elevator, turning to face the group with a confident smile. "Though knowing that the Treasure is in the middle is practically confirmation already."

Before Futaba can reply, Ann glances through the group. "First though, anyone tired?" She asks the group in concern. "We've been really powering through, you know? We didn't even really take a break. Especially you, Akira," Ann says, leaning forward to peer at their leader's face. Akira looks away from their rapidly approaching destination to raise an eyebrow at her, hands comfortable in his pockets. Ryuji nods in agreement.

"Yeah, man. I was kinda impressed watchin' you slicin' those Shadows like butter."

Akira rolls his shoulders, assesses his energy levels. He feels stronger than ever, actually, so he shrugs.

"I'm good. Been training."

"Man, hit me up if you're gonna train!" Ryuji hits his shoulder with a smile as they all file out of the elevator. "Training is more fun with a buddy!"

"Safe room spotted," Futaba turns her head to the left even before Morgana even starts to feel the familiar distortion of reality peeking into the Metaverse, and he closes his mouth.

Yusuke is complaining that the bank holds no beauty to be inspired by as they check out the Safe Room briefly before returning to the bank vaults, quickly figuring out the PIN. Futaba offers to hack them all straight through after examining the console, but Akira shakes his head.

"Palaces are opportunities," he states simply.

"Oh right. Loot rules! I get it," Futaba subsides with a small gremlin grin and double thumbs up. Under Akira's battle directions, Makoto's strategic reminders Futaba's navigation, and the original Thieves taking the bulk of the action when their newer members started to falter in strength, they crash straight right through all the barriers and land right in front of the Treasure.

"Did we break our quickest record to infiltrate a Palace?" Ann says in wonder, and Ryuji crows.

"Man, we're awesome!"

"Don't forget we still need to send the notice, guys!" Morgana interrupts with a little impatience.

Yusuke nods. "I will get started immediately. We are going to post these all around Shibuya, correct?"

"I did offer to send it straight to Kaneshiro's email, you know…" Futaba pouts, but Ryuji shakes his head.

"Nah. We need to prove to your Black Mask guy and the public that the Phantom Thieves are going to take action!" He punches a fist into his other hand with a smile on his face. "We have to prove to him and all the rest that the Phantom Thieves mean business! Right, Joker?"

Akira nods, and Futaba shrugs.

"Well, it's your effort."

"I'll need help with printing," Yusuke muses out loud. "I don't think I have enough money to buy enough resources for it. Coloured ink is more expensive than I imagined."

"Fox, leave the printing to me," Makoto smiles. "I have quite a few privileges as Student Council President, and one of them is my unlimited access to the libraries whenever I wish. There's a printer there, and I've opened the library a few times. I'll do that whenever you've finished the design."

"Thank you, Queen," Yusuke gives her a grateful smile. "You are truly dependable. I will leave that up to you, then."

  


* * *

  


[Hatake Tobe: Be careful.]

[Hatake Tobe: I've noticed something's up.]

[Hatake Tobe: Lie low.]

Fusa's warnings come at a time where he has simultaneous invitations to meet up from both Shiho and Hikaru, but he also knows that Fusa isn't the type to send such things for show.

So Akechi lies low for the next few days, going to school with Yusuke before parting at the station. He's already gotten the requisite permission to let Yusuke visit Endo, but he doesn't broach the topic yet as he keeps an eye on his surroundings, hand never too far from his phone.

A few days later, the whole of Shibuya is plastered in posters, just like in his last life.

Though… Akechi frowns, trying to match up increasingly vague memories, it seemed they were quite early in comparison.

"So they finally start their official fight with Shido," Akechi murmurs to himself as he stands in front of one of the many posters in vivid red. Kaneshiro's name is particularly eye-catching, and it takes a moment before Akechi turns away.

As GA, he had promised them a month, but to think that Futaba sped up Kaneshiro's Palace by such a margin…

Changes are unfurling much quicker than he thought.

  


* * *

  


"I'm _not_ useless!" Morgana shouts, and Ryuji stands up.

"It's not as if I said anythin' _wrong_ when I said you did nothing in the Kaneshiro's Palace!"

"I," Morgana backs up a few steps. "Th-that doesn't mean anything! I was the one who taught you guys all about the Metaverse—"

"We figured most of that crap ourselves," Ryuji snorts, and Morgana bristles.

"Joker, tell him off!" He turns to Akira, and Akira's frowns.

"Calm down," he says to both of them, and Ryuji scowls.

"Why? I was just saying truth. He was the one who blew up! We even have another healer now—"

Morgana's ears are flat on his head, shrinking into his shoulders. "Stop, Ryuji!" Ann stomps to him and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Shut your big mouth for just one second!"

"Yeah, that's harsh!" Futaba protests. "Mona-chan's our mascot!"

Makoto slaps her head. "That's not helping," she mutters, even as Morgana flinches.

"I'm more than just a mascot!" He shouts when he rallies himself again, already retreating. "I'll show you guys just how amazing I am, just you wait!"

"Wait, Mona!" Ann turns just in time to see Morgana blink out of reality. She blinks for a bit, before she turns to Ryuji in utter fury. "Now look what you've done! You know how Mona has always been insecure about his identity!"

"I, I didn't think he'd react that badly," Ryuji seems a little dumbfounded now, winding down a little now that Morgana was directly out of his sight. "And it wasn't as if I said anything _wrong_."

"…Ryuji, I understand the most the hurt that comes from someone telling me I'm useless," Makoto says quietly. This time, Ryuji actually flinches when he avoids Makoto's serious eyes. "Especially when they're someone as close as family. I'm with Ann on this one."

"Family… should treat each other well," Futaba murmurs to herself, hunching a little.

"We're the only family Mona has," Ann places both hands on her hips. "You go apologise immediately!"

"You were quite insensitive," Yusuke pitches in last.

Ryuji heaves a large sigh, scratching the back of his head. There's still a bit of a mulish tilt to his mouth, but there's also regret in his voice when he mutters back to them.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it when he comes back, a'ight?"

"Good," Ann huffs. "The Thieves shouldn't be arguing with themselves. Akira, say something too," Ann narrows her eyes at him. After a long moment, Akira claps a hand on Ryuji's shoulders.

"I won't pass judgment," Akira finally says, quiet. "You know best how words hurt."

Kamoshida, and his taunts at Ryuji's father and home situation. The truth, spoken harshly and with unnecessary mockery. Ryuji shudders.

"I… Joker, I get it. I'll say sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him, anyway."

Akira smiles.

"Good."

By the next morning, Akira had a particularly bad night of sleeping.

And Morgana was still not back.

"We'll search after school," is Makoto's first answer, eyes determined. "Akira, you go to all the common spots you think Mona will go. Ann, stay at home. We know how fond Mona is of you, and if he tries to find you it'll be easier if you stay in one spot. Futaba's already monitoring for Metaverse activity, and she's doing her best to track down any footage of Mona travelling the city. Ryuji, either search with Akira, or go to any place he's not going to go. Yusuke has an exam soon, so he can't help. Any problems?"

"No, Queen!" Ryuji sits straight up with a salute, to Makoto's amused quirk of a smile. Akira nods.

"Good. Let's hope he comes back by himself before then," Makoto nods at them all in farewell, before they all break up for class.

  


* * *

  


Akira's search goes from after-school into night-time.

Nights in Tokyo are very different to his hometown. His village had been small – he'd known that, of course, having visited Tokyo when he had accompanied his parents to trips to the city – a cluster of houses, apartments and streets nestled next to a mountain, the next town at least ten minutes down the line by Shinkansen. His hometown had been remnants of a farming town, with some elderly neighbours still keeping personal fields and produce because of family legacy. Most shops darkened their doors at nine, and only convenience stores would open through night.

Akira didn't purposefully wander through the nights then. He sometimes stayed late at school finishing off projects, or he'd hiked a little too deep into the mountain trails of his childhood, shoes still dusting off mulch and leaves, socks that might be a little damp from where he had fun walking up slippery river rocks towards haunts that were devoid of whispers and stares. Moonlight was usually enough as he's always had keen night vision, a light that keeps every gleaming edge silver as he listened to the insects and animals of the season.

Crickets, cicadas, birds, the rustle of some unknown creature rolling down hills. A little dust of snow, the omnipresent wind.

Compared to that, what words could he use for Tokyo?

Vibrant, perhaps. Shockingly so. There are no silver shadows here, no monochromatic silence. Neon greets him when he wanders down the streets of Shibuya, Shinjuku, Kichijoji, any shopping district really. A bombardment of smells and sights and sounds, of crowds that wouldn't dip in energy until midnight even.

It's too much, and too big. He's wandering Tokyo alone, the search for Morgana fruitless. Feet padding against smooth pavement, slipping by the many nondescript faces that pass.

It's hot and humid this night, near unbearably so.

Yesterday, he had dreamt of Morgana.

He'd always wondered why meeting Morgana hadn't triggered any sort of omen or dream. Not that he knew much about how the processes of how these strange future glimpses worked, but Morgana had fit the bill in his tentative criteria. A confidant, with a Persona.

When Morgana disappeared, he'd unexpectedly dreamed. Like an unconscious memory suppressed, finally breaking free.

It was also a humid summer night in his dream, his adult self holding a heavy cat carrier as he wound his way through the streets of Tokyo. They soon enter a vet practice, where the receptionist smiles when they see them.

"Kurusu-san! Doctor Nana isn't going to take a minute. Just wait for a bit."

Akira nods and heads to the plastic seats on the side with little to do. There's a stack of worn magazines lying on the side table that don't look particularly interesting, and a television is propped on a wall showing a historical drama that Ann had already spoiled beyond the current episode.

"I don't like the smell of antiseptic," Morgana grumbles from the cat carrier, sticking a paw out of the front grate and wiggling it. Akira pats the box consolingly. "And I hate this carrier too."

Akira pats it again, soft thunks on the plastic, and Morgana huffs. He's curled into a ball through the slats on the sides, and Akira knows he's still in pain. Morgana had dismissed it at first – saying that it might be something he ate that gave him a stomach-ache. But then that stomach-ache had persisted, and then it might not have been a stomach problem at all, Morgana confessed sheepishly, since he was kind of in pain all over, though he still insisted a night's sleep would make everything better.

When Akira came back from university the next day with Morgana curled up in a ball near the doorway, he made the executive decision to scoop him up into a long disused cat carrier he had to dig out from underneath a pile of books. He made the call to their usual vet when he'd settled Morgana inside, and the vet kindly allowed him to make a last-minute booking.

"When was his last wellness check-up, Kurusu-san?" The veterinarian asks when they're let in, a relatively young lady who always greeted them with a smile and indulged how Akira talked to Morgana. It endeared her to both of them, Morgana always preening a little more for chin scratches. Nana looks enquiringly at him now, and Akira furrows his brow in thought.

"Last year?" He says uncertainly, and she gives him a wry look.

"Try come at least twice a year, okay? Especially since… Morgana?" At Akira's confirmation, she continues. "Morgana is getting along the years. I know you said you adopted him off the streets so you don't know his actual age, but I think he's around seven or eight years old. And the symptoms you've been telling me gives me a feeling…"

Lethargy, eating less food. Morgana seemed to be in pain, though Akira had only wheedled out of him on the trip here that the pain had been a low-lying thing for a few weeks now, and Nana frowns.

"I'll have to do a little test," Nana says while stroking Morgana's black fur absently.

He behaved himself this time, and didn't do any of his usual mischief when Nana took samples and gave him a general check-up as well. Maybe its the sudden low anxiety in Akira's chest, feeling like something isn’t quite right, when he listened closely to Nana's recommended lifestyle tips.

Morgana looked as healthy as always, though he might have lost some weight. They'd joked it off even yesterday, Ryuji laughing when he ribbed Morgana playfully saying that he was finally 'sheddin' all that luxury sushi, hah!'

"I'll give you a call when I get the results back, okay?" Nana smiled, and Akira gave her a grateful bow.

Fast forward a few days, Akira was sitting in the waiting room again, staring out the window at a particularly gnarled tree that curled over the walls of the vet's backyard like a skeletal hand. Morgana was out of the carrier and on Akira's lap, making funny shapes out of the soft blanket that Akira had brought with him, not really in the mood to be excited.

They both freeze and snap to attention when they hear the vet calling Akira's name.

The vet doesn't waste time or words. She dives straight in, a tempered smile already in place.

"Kurusu-san, I'm sorry to say that Morgana has tested positive for bone cancer. It's a relatively rare and spontaneous thing," Nana said sympathetically, "especially since Morgana is a medium-sized cat and I don't think he's ten years old yet. There are a few treatment options available, and I still want to run a few more tests to clarify whether it's already spread to the lungs, or if there's perhaps some case of arthritis—"

"What?" Morgana whispered on his lap, blue eyes wide as he stopped kneading the blanket. Akira himself feels a little numb when he interrupts.

"How long?"

"Life expectancy? Generally, one to four years if there's chemotherapy and amputation or bone grafts. Treating cancer like this is a highly personal decision, Kurusu-san, and I want you to make the best decision possible. So I'll explain, okay?"

Somewhere in the back of Akira's mind he appreciated how Nana is stretching their consultancy period. She's trying to go over each and every one of the options he can choose in consideration for him, going over time, prices, expectancy, statistics and chances. Many of the options are too expensive for a guy scraping by on a student budget. But he also knew that the moment Haru or Ann heard of this they'd throw money at him even if he doesn't accept it, so that's something he thinks about later.

Now he just hugs Morgana tight as they leave the veterinary. The cat carrier is abandoned, slung at his elbow.

"It's like that time all over again," Morgana murmurs, and Akira nods.

They both had a hard time accepting it, a few years ago, when Akira finally registered Morgana as an official pet. The vet's report had made them both realise that despite being a literal manifestation of humanity's hopes, Morgana had become as real a cat as any other. He would only be with the Thieves for another decade at most, before he'd be gone.

"I'm unwilling," Morgana had said, tail swishing a little wildly on the table. "This sort of thing is why I wanted to be a human in the first place! Then I can live with all the rest of you, and I could be someone you guys can depend on too. But… I understand. I'm a cat now," he says sadly, ears drooping. "I think we can work towards accepting it. Besides, you guys aren't rid of me yet! If I die, I think I'll just go back to Master's side."

Akira was wordless back then, emotions and thoughts churning all about at the thought that Morgana wasn't as magically immortal as he once thought. All he could do was flatten his lips into a thin line. Hug him. As usual, Morgana understood without words when he butted his head against his hand.

"One to four years…" Morgana murmurs now, and Akira nods. Theres something that makes the corners of his lips wobble when he feels one of Morgana's ears flick against his chin. They walk down the street, and the back of Akira's chest is already hurting when he hears Morgana mumble through all the options they'd heard from Nana.

"What do you want to do?" Akira asks Morgana when they found their favourite spot in Inokashira park. A shaded bench, overlooking the lake. "It's your choice."

Morgana, who was thinner and more tired these days, who had complained about running and had wanted to be carried everywhere because of his 'old bones, dammit Akira!' was unsettlingly quiet. His eyes, bluer than the sky above them, watched the few swan boats paddling across the water. He thought, in uncharacteristic quietness.

Morgana, his friend, partner in crime, his family, turned his head towards him.

"I want to fight this," Morgana said with determination. His voice was toned to a level of seriousness that Akira rarely hears. "I want to fight this fate I've been given."

His little brother looked at Akira. Looked past the black frame of his fake glasses, his stone poker face, before breaking into a smile. "Don't worry, Joker! No Phantom Thief would ever be brought down so easily! Have faith in me," Morgana brings a paw up to pat his chest. "We caught it kind of early, and I know I'll get through this!"

Somehow, even when he thinks he's hardened and worn and weathered, the world still finds ways to sneak in blows where its soft and tender and new.

 _I wish I could help you,_ Akira thinks as he reaches out a hand and pats Morgana the way he liked it. _I wish I could fix this._

"You already help, Joker," Morgana says after an appreciative purr when Akira scratches the place on his neck he could never reach. "You do so much more than anyone can ever ask. That's why you're our leader. Now leave this to me, okay?"

Akira mouth is downturned, he's biting the inside of his cheek when he thinks of their future, soon to be laden with tiredness, chemicals, sickness and desperate recovery. He looks down at Morgana and wishes.

_Please let him win this fight._

The dream stops there in the moment of frozen peace, and he woke with a horrible gnawing emptiness that haunted him the whole day, an echo of what his older self felt. Ann and Ryuji had interpreted it as a restless night worrying for Morgana, but he didn't know how to explain it was more...

He thinks of his future self, wandering alone through the streets without Morgana by his side. With Goro dead, Ann far away, Ryuji and Makoto struggling through problems that they had to face on their own. He thinks of Yusuke, mourning something never to be resolved, with the lone light of Futaba forging forward with an independence he didn't want to interrupt.

He thinks he understands a little now, why his older self always seems to feel alone.

Speaking of which, he'd already wandered all the spots that he usually frequents with him, but he doesn't spot him anywhere.

Akira frowns.

Futaba's been using her Metaverse trackers, but Morgana had always been a strange exception as he never needed the app to enter Mementos or Palaces.

"If he's entering anywhere, I can't tell," Futaba says with a frustrated pout, frowning hard at the readings. Similar efforts around the city from other thieves bore similar results. Even Ryuji seemed contrite in their group chat at the end of the day, when Akira's wound down and lying in bed, finishing off a book now that Morgana wasn't there to tell him to sleep.

Where was he?

  


* * *

  


"I'll show them," Morgana grumbles to himself as he dodges pedestrians by walking across walls and low roofs, wandering through the different districts of Tokyo while stealing food whenever he could. He hasn't lived like this for a while, and it's not an entirely happy change.

(He thinks of Boss's cat-food, brands with fish and tuna, and some random pieces of sushi when he was feeling generous with a pang of nostalgia and doubt. It wasn't as if _Joker_ had said anything about him, and maybe he knew he was over-reacting a little, but… Joker hadn't spoken up to defend him either. Even after all those nights where Morgana had poured his thoughts to him, given him his insecurities in the confidence of a friend, and Morgana wasn't, wasn't feeling entirely _forgiving_ right now.)

"I'm going to find a place with a high Metaverse reading and get to the Treasure all by myself! Then they'll see how much I'm worth. Stupid Ryuji will practically be begging to get me back into the Phantom Thieves!"

Morgana leaps down from the garden wall back into a more crowded area, keeping to the sides so he doesn't bump into anybody as he walks down unfamiliar streets.

"Though… it's hard, huh," he says to himself, looking around at the giant skyscrapers he finds himself surrounded with. It's not a district that Akira often frequents, which is perfect. The issue was that despite his awesome plan, he was failing at the first step.

"Where are all the Palaces?!" Morgana yowls in frustration. "Not in Shibuya, not in the shadiest parts of Shinjuku, and now not even in a large business district? Should I be happy that there aren't any corrupted people or—Oh," Morgana's ears flatten as he feels a flash of something cold waft over his senses, an otherworldly air that smelt like plasma and metal. His fur puffs out in response as he turns his head to a particularly large flashy office building. "Is this? Finally!" Morgana bounds towards the office building in happiness, dodging the feet of businessmen and women as he does so, leaping over a pair of school shoes as he follows right behind a hurrying, sleep deprived worker.

Haru Okumura startles from where she's sitting in front of the foyer of Okumura Foods main administration building. She used to sit inside, of course, where there's air-conditioning and nice leather seats and privacy areas, where the receptionists are always too willing to serve the daughter of the president of Okumura Foods. There she'd wait until her father took a late lunch break, and they'd go and eat somewhere together incognito, having fun judging décor, food, atmosphere and brainstorming inspiration for Okumura Foods' own franchises and businesses.

Now she's outside on a bench near some flowers and bushes, half-hidden from the sight of the main entrance She'd hoped, maybe a little optimistically, that her father's text this afternoon asking her to rgo to the office was an invitation for one of their past lunches.

Instead, reception told her that her father had promised her afternoon to Sugimura, who would arrive to pick her up soon. Which led her here, half ensconced in a sculpted bush. It wouldn't be her fault if he couldn't find her when she was still where she promised to be – i.e. in front of the Okumura Foods building.

"Was that… a cat?" She says to herself, standing up and widening her eyes when she sees that yes, it was indeed a cat streaking towards the main entrance of the building. "Wait, kitty, don't go there!"

Her father had been very particular with the image of the company recently, as they prepared for an expansion of Big Bang Burger overseas. As cute as animal videos are, if any employee of Okumura Foods took a social capture of a cat within the office building, or if any guests had the impression that they were unprofessional enough to let animals through, it wouldn't end well for at least _someone_ for compromising their brand image with something unexpected.

Hauling her bag up from the strap and racing forwards following the cat, Haru catches up just before it reaches the sliding glass doors.

The world warps a little, and Haru blinks it away (was her blood pressure rising?) as she looks around for the black cat.

She takes a step forward, and the world changes again.

This time, Haru _can't_ blink away the fact that she wasn't in front of the familiar glass and metal interior of her father's administration building. The air smells of chemicals and ozone, and when she steps forward her shoes make a loud hollow clanking sound from the metal.

"What is this?" Haru steps backwards, eyes wide when she looks backwards where she came and sees a… spaceport? Through the glass is _space_ , a genuine black universe dotted with stars a million light-years away, and Haru catches her jaw before it drops and swallows instead. It's only the etiquette training that's been hammered into her since she was young that keeps her from shrinking back. "How – where am I?"

"Aha! So this is how you activate it!" Pipes up a voice somewhere behind her, and Haru whirls around again with her hands clutched tight on her bag strap ready for _anything_.

She blinks. Blinks again.

Anything did not include a cartoon cat come to life, jumping in joy as he hung off a lever that activated an elevator down.

Soon the cat was out of sight, and Haru stood alone, staring at the huge digital banner of Big Bang Burger rotating around over and over.

"Ah, wait!" She spurs to life a moment too late, going forward towards the elevator too. "Please, explain to me what's going on!"

  


* * *

  


A text forebodes a dark car parked around the corner of his dorm, the door unlocking with an audible click when he approaches. His face is perfectly neutral when he pulls the door open and gets in, and the driver doesn't say a word when he locks the doors behind him and starts the car.

The car carries Akechi winds out of the main of Tokyo city, high-rises and concrete jungles left behind for more grassy plains, for the lone house here and there leaking bright squares of yellow light. The darkness is only lit by the passing glare of reflecting signs as the car comes to a stop in front of a nondescript house. There are a few other cars parked in front of the premises, and the driveway – loose gravel – is scattered well down the road. Recent heavy traffic then, and Akechi narrows his eyes, estimating how many will be waiting for him.

At least ten, but no more than fifteen to eighteen.

Curious, knowing how Shido prefers to work.

"Get out," the driver says, accent rough despite wearing a suit. The lights that automatically switch on illuminate his features for the first time, and Akechi spots the beginnings of a tattoo from his shirt sleeve.

Yakuza.

He has a feeling he knows what will greet him when he approaches the doorway of this house, the nearest neighbour a dark house five minutes up the road. When the door opens by itself when he nears by another man with a curling tattoo revealed at the edge of his neck, Akechi looks at him with no expression.

"I was expected?" He asks blandly.

"They're waiting for you. Second door to the right," the man replies smoothly, eyes carefully shuttered to hide any curiosity. By the way this man was observing Akechi from the corner of his eye, just like Akechi himself, the lower ranks do not know what's going on.

The man must see a well-dressed teenager, perhaps peripherally aware of his status as Detective Prince. Akechi himself notes that on the edge of his sleeve, on a stylised cufflink, is the symbol of a red lotus.

Akechi tucks the information away in his head as he denies the offer to take off his shoes, stepping straight through into the doorway indicated.

A room that's surprisingly comfortable in its furnishings. Air-conditioning is running at near full blast to counter the heat, the light a comfortable yellow reminiscent of more vintage areas. Leather couches, a thick red rug underneath his feet. There are quite a few people inside, some who had indulged in smoking long enough for the room to have a slight haze, the windows tightly shut. There was a large monitor set on the far wall, and within the twelve people in the room he recognises one who sat himself in a corner, looking up from what he's browsing on his phone to see the new arrival.

Akechi does not acknowledge Fusa as he sits down on one of the last empty seats left, just like how Fusa merely looks back down to his phone without giving him an extra glance. Most of them he recognises – minor members of Shido's conspiracy that strengthened their worth during the Medjed and Okumura turmoils. Some of them were infamous for being linked to less legal matters, from members of business to landowners.

"Is everyone here? Then we may begin," one of the men on the peripherals stand, adjusting the cuffs of his suit where he had his own pair of lotus cufflinks. A deeper shade of red than the set that the doorman had worn, and Akechi turns towards the monitor when it blinks

Shido appears on the screen, within his own office.

"I'm glad to see everyone here," he begins, his face stretching into a welcoming smile. It's the one that has won more than a few housewives and working men over, the one he flashes whenever he goes on trips to the countryside and shakes hands with farmers and those with struggles he uses to gain political leverage, and most of the people in the room nod or greet back with enthusiasm. "Thank you all for coming to this meeting, and I apologise for not meeting you all in person. As you may know, I have travelled to Hokkaido for business and my campaign, and therefore it was difficult for me to come back and greet you all."

"No, it's fine, Shido-san!" A slightly pudgy man – the owner of a chain of butcheries, Akechi remembers, who had a loose mouth and even looser morals says effusively. He had needed to silence him a lifetime ago, the man practically shaking in excitement to even interact with his future murderer through a screen. He's probably not the only one who sees the disdain in Shido's eyes when he smiles back at the butchery owner, since there are other guests who smile a little mockingly when the man in question doesn't notice anything amiss. "We understand your busy schedule! I, in particular, am so pleased to have a chance to have a private meeting with you!"

"Indeed, Shido-san," a more poised man cuts in. "May I ask, why the long distance? Wouldn't a place in the city sufficed?"

"Some in this room wouldn't have been comfortable within Tokyo, and I wished to bring all the rising stars of our movement together without discriminating against anyone," Shido replies with a humorous laugh. "This is a meeting of celebration," Shido continues with the perfect accent of a politician, "that I finally recognise all the efforts you all have brought me, and acknowledge you as higher members of our order. There has been a recent… situation, and an important member of ours has left. This leaves a space for new blood, new talent to fill. After you all prove your loyalty, I, Masayoshi Shido, promise to bring you even better benefits and opportunities after I have been elected as Prime Minister."

While the others in the room express various amount of thanks and joy, hidden or open, Akechi hears something else.

'Prove your loyalty'.

Akechi looks up at Shido's face as the feelings of unease in his heart begin to unfurl.

Why was Shido testing him?

Akechi has long been aware that the doors behind him were, although unlocked, guarded by at least the yakuza member who let him in. There's another, the one who introduced the whole meeting in the first place, standing there with a welcoming smile that doesn't reach his eyes, standing near the monitor and observing them all with sharp eyes. He's casually placed himself next to the only window.

Fusa shifts, silent, in the periphery.

He doesn't look comfortable either.

"Each of you only need to do one task to make it into the higher ranks of our organisation. If you succeed, you will get a personalised invitation to meet up with the highest echelons of society, a true network that will support all your ambitions," Shido continues. "Does that sound agreeable?"

Without waiting for further confirmation, Shido nods to someone off the screen. Soon later, the polite yakuza member hosting the meeting taps something on his phone.

"Hiroki Nagamine," the man calls out, and a more elderly man stands up with a smile. "Our leader wishes to ask whether you're able to wrest control of your family's inheritance by the election date, and pledge yourself to our cause."

Nagamine's elderly face twitches, smile faltering. It's obviously not something he was prepared for.

"My father's inheritance? I have two older brothers standing in my way," Nagamine replies much more uncertainly. "I have pledged my own business to the cause, with the growing interest in our services from consumers, my company is projected to grow at least a hundred and forty-five percent in the next financial year—"

"Will you?" The man cuts through his words with unrelenting passivity. He adjusts his cuff-links, and the red lotuses glint in the light. "Or will you not? Know that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Nagamine-san. Our leader does not give second chances."

Nagamine grits his teeth. It's obvious what Shido is asking of him. Hiroki Nagamine… Akechi's seen him before, in an article in the past. He funded his start-up at the age of fifty, creating a new app that had blown-up in popularity targeted at youth to gain employment skills, networking opportunities, and live mentors. He had disappeared off the map by the time Christmas came however, the app a fad that had blown over.

As Akechi continues to watch this meeting, face absolutely blank as he keeps his hands loosely uncurled, his shoulders relaxed, he thinks he knows why.

"I thought Shido-san said that he was interested in what my courses could do to influence the minds of the young," Nagamine says through forced calm. "Not my family's inheritance."

"Will you?" The yakuza man asks.

"I will do anything else," Nagamine states. "Name the price."

"Your father's inheritance," the yakuza man asks, and Nagamine's struggle is obvious for all to see. Kill his older brothers and father, or Shido's offer will be gone.

"I—I decline," Nagamine finally replies. "I thank you, Shido-san, for this opportunity. However, there are lines that cannot be crossed."

In the middle of his deep bow towards the screen, he misses Shido's nonchalant nod. In the next second, the yakuza man has a gun in his hand, and there's a loud click.

A deafening bang. It echoes around the room, the acrid smell of gunpowder cutting through the haze of smoke. One of the men scream, high-pitched, on the other side of the room before stuffing a fist to his mouth as they all watch Nagamine's expression twist into one of surprise - before he collapses to the floor. Akechi can practically feel the recoil in his own hands as he watches the crumpled corpse of Hiroki Nagamine without reaction. A man who had refused Shido's offer because of some lingering love for his family and died for it.

The blood is practically invisible on the red rug. Merely a glimmer in the dim light.

"Understand that this was not an easy decision to make," the yakuza says with that professional smile still on his face. "But, as you all know, you all are at the point of knowing too much. We cannot afford leaks at this critical stage of our leader's election."

The rest of the room is silent now. None of the previous enthusiastic energy is present in any of them, their faces white. As if reality was just hitting them as the door behind them opens and, Akechi notes in his heart, four well-built yakuza men walk in and haul the body out of the room.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving only weighted silence.

Idiots, Akechi thinks bitterly, if they thought Shido would ever accept a refusal. Shido, at most, bargains, because he thinks he will still win in the end.

It's obvious the first man was merely an example when the second man is called.

"Kikuo Nohara," the yakuza man calls out, and the man in question stands with much greater nervousness. "We wish to know whether you will be able to provide the imports you initially promised at the beginning of our relationship."

A much easier request that has Nohara agree almost instantaneously, sweating all the while. He's escorted out of the room in a much different manner than his predecessor, with smiles and a golden invitation placed in his palm even as Shido watched over them all from his monitor.

There are only six people left in the room when the yakuza's smile turns towards him. His turn. Three men, two women, Fusa one of the few still watching from his seat in the corner as Akechi rises to his feet. A few, slow steps are all it takes before he's standing underneath Shido's face on the large monitor.

Shido sips from his glass of wine, eyes never leaving whatever screen he is watching from.

"Goro Akechi," the ever-smiling yakuza sketches him a small bow, voice light and pleasant. "Our leader is always pleased with your work. There are nearly no requests we can ask of you except to continue doing your good work. Because you have been such an exemplary member of our organisation, you need to do nothing at all. Instead, we have a gift, to show how you contribute to our cause. Bring him in!"

The man claps and the door behind them opens. This time, the four men carry in a fairly large figure who lies slack in between them. It's obviously a kidnapping by the sack tied loosely over his head, and it doesn't take long for the four men to tie him to a chair with business-like efficiency, before retreating silently back outside.

Then there's a silence, where all the members in the room stare at the drugged man placed in the middle of the room. He's dirty - there's a large bloodstain on his front and the musty smell of unwashed sweat fills the room, wildly out of place within the fancy décor.

For the first time since the first greeting, Shido speaks.

"I was recently struck by the realisation that you never see the result of your work, Akechi." Shido's tone is conversational when he leans back in his chair. "That man was captured because of your intelligence. He is a traitor to our cause and tried to sell out our information and networks to a third party without permission."

The drugged man doesn't respond. Akechi doesn't even know who he is, with the sack over his head. He's sure it's not someone he knows but it's too dark to truly verify, too few distinguishing features to guess. It would be something Shido would enjoy, Akechi knows, the irony of Akechi unknowingly killing someone he likes on Shido's order. He's seen Shido's entertained face before, when he set people on paths that destroy allies and friends in their desperate path to success. Though the build is too big and bulky, the profile too awkward, Akechi's mind continues to race to match what he sees to the people he knows.

"Your task is more of an honour than any sort of trial," Shido says, his dark eyes expectant behind his tinted glasses. "For the first time, you have the pleasure of seeing through your task."

The yakuza man on the side appears at Akechi elbow and offers him a gun. When Akechi merely looks at it without taking it, the yakuza man picks it up for him and presses it into Akechi's hand, curling his slack fingers around the grip.

Cold.

A slightly unfamiliar contour, but easily adjusted for. It hangs loose in Akechi's hand as he stares down at it. The smell of gunpowder still lingers in the air, and paired with the sleek metal in his hand he can easily imagine another room, another victim.

The man, all tied up and presented to him like a gift. So easy to kill.

Akechi knows why Robin Hood never speaks. While Loki, and then Morrigan, had talked and laughed and burned for him, there had been a time when Robin Hood once spoke alongside them.

But after he took Shido's first commission and weighed his revenge in one hand, the life of a stranger in the other and ultimately found himself more important, Robin Hood had made one, last plea for him to stop. It had echoed in his mind when he pressed the gun to the head of his very first Shadow, the twisted anguish when he pulled the trigger near overwhelming.

Robin's voice had faded away after that, and it was only later Akechi fully realised the consequences of his actions. That the satisfaction he revelled in after killing another for Shido's trust had hurt Robin in ways that he couldn't have fathomed. Murder had flayed him into a tattered remnant of who Robin had once been, his skills less, his presence weak.

And from then on, Robin Hood was mute until that one word.

_Hope._

Redemption, impossible until time literally reversed and all the people he killed were still alive. Minato's miracle giving him a chance to choose another future whenever the chance for a kill was presented to him.

_("Wait for us, Goro.")_

"You want me to shoot him?" Akechi asks blandly, softly, near a murmur. His voice is a light thing that's captured anyway, in the dead silence.

"Yes," Shido chuckles under his breath. "Let's say this is a… token of my appreciation, Akechi."

Appreciation. Akechi scoffs in his mind. It was as if Shido didn't know this was a common tactic for gangs and criminals. An illegal ritual in the name of loyalty, serving both as a rite of passage and something to threaten the member with for the rest of their lives.

Always pushing the line. Akechi knew this would happen. He'd known from the beginning, what Shido's like. He also knew what Shido would do in the future - that if he knew pushing this boundary didn't work, then Akechi only has so many other boundaries to try.

Saito's warm smile flashes in his mind, and it's a raw stab of fear that makes him grip the gun in his hand tighter.

There is no escape. There are at least four men outside the lone door to the room, and the yakuza host has settled back next to his post to the window. Akechi can meld into the Metaverse, but away from Tokyo the app is weak, and there's no guarantee even if he successfully leaves that Shido won't see it as a sign of betrayal and act anyway.

Shido's eyes burn the side of his face when he assesses the gun in his hand, flicking the safety on and off. He turns slowly towards the man tied to the chair as an executioner once again… And he thinks of another face, another time.

Akira, underneath his gun bloodied and drugged and unrelenting even as Akechi laughed at his suffering. Akira, sea breeze in his hair as he promised to walk with him no matter what. His slight smile whenever he met his eyes, hands in his pockets in his casual slouch. Akira, who brought sunlight, spring breezes, quiet descriptions of flowers and that soft fondness that even in his first life Akechi couldn't help but be drawn to. Like a moth to a flame. 

Yes, that's what it was, Akechi thought as he raised his arm and took a second to aim.

Akira was freedom.

That outreached hand that shouldn't have reached out to someone like him, the idiotic optimism, how he cut through society's expectations like they were so many pieces of scrap paper.

Akechi surprises himself when, above the burning frustration, the hate at the eyes watching him like entertainment, the slight trembling of his hands from the sheer emotion he is trying to swallow and not show, that there is something that bears over it all.

Ah, he thinks dispassionately.

He wants to be free.

For just a moment, a second. He wants to rid of Shido and live like the boy that Saito, Wakaba and Atsuzawa saw. That they tried to promise, with smiles and offers and words and a belief that he can't repay in laughter, dinners, offers of ice-cream and ramen and a safety that's only an illusion because of his own mistakes.

Akechi flicks the safety off. The metal surface of the gun shows a shallow reflection of Shido's face behind him, watching, weighing him down, and Akechi closes his eyes against it.

_Sorry Akira. I can't wait for you after all._

His finger tightens on the trigger.

A bang echoes around the room, a sound that leaves the ears slightly deafened but... Akechi looks down at his own gun in confusion for a moment. Then he looks up.

The shot that killed the man sounded from the other side of the room.

"Sorry, he was taking too long," Fusa says, the gun in his hand still smoking. Fusa has a bland expression on his face as he lowers it, crossing his legs as he leans back into his chair. It's an expression of nonchalance, Fusa's eyes staring straight at the camera streaming the proceedings to Shido. "I hope you don't mind. Unless you have another criminal ready to get judged?"

Shido's smirk drops a little, before it recovers.

"There's no-one else prepared."

"Good," Fusa replies, that polite mask firmly in place as he gives Shido a small, hard smile. "My apologies, Shido-san. Since that boy isn't going to receive any more benefits, can we move on?"

Shido's strangely silent. It's his thinking face, considering, before there's a hint of smugness in a widening smile.

Like something had clicked into place anyway.

"Of course. Expect more rewards soon, Akechi," Shido promises with a light laugh. He takes another sip of wine. "There's still a great many things to be done, and I expect the best work from you, just as before."

Akechi is stiff when he sketches a small bow towards Shido on the screen.

"Yes, Shido-san."

Then he's led out of the room by yakuza who are all smiles, gun taken from his hand and replaced with a golden invitation like all the others. He passes Fusa, who still has his legs crossed, staring up at Shido's face on the screen, before he leaves him behind.

The door closes behind him, shutting away Shido staring down the last few still awaiting judgment as he's politely lead to a car.

Soon he's back in the familiar reaches of Tokyo, and the driver doesn't comment when Akechi asks to be let off near Kichijoji.

The jazz bar is playing vinyl disks today, without a live performer on the stage. Muhen is behind the counter polishing glasses, welcoming him with a smile when he gave him today's special. It's sweet, the scoop of ice-cream a little larger than normal, and Akechi sinks into a seat in the corner and clutches the cold of it with a little too much strength.

He cannot text Fusa yet.

Not yet.

He still finds his phone however, and a text catches his eye. It's from Akira, detailing…

Morgana's missing?

Yes, something like that was mentioned when they explained the events of the Phantom Thieves to him. But had it happened this early?

No matter, Akechi thinks as he finishes his drink quickly.

He has a feeling as to where he is. And if he is right, then Morgana was in imminent danger.

He boards a taxi at the taxi station, and the driver is utterly bored when he asks Akechi for his destination.

"Okumura Foods," Akechi replies, before turning away to watch the passing scenery, mired in his own thoughts.

**Devil Rank 6 – Shido Masayoshi**

  


* * *

  


"As I said, Shido-san," a tattooed man drawls, crossing his legs and placing them onto his tea-table. "Didn't I tell you? Told you he'd act. That guy has always had false loyalty, you know that. Seems like he's gained a soft spot for that demon. That's why I told you to trust me. You pay me enough so that I don't really wanna lie, y'know?"

"Yes, I know," Shido replies, speculative. They both knew that Shido would never truly trust the yakuza, but The Cleaner had truly won this time. "Thank you," he smiles at the Cleaner, "for the information."

"Pfft, any time. I know he's useful to you an'all, but government shits should all die," the Cleaner snorts. "Now that you got what you need, I'm gonna ditch. Tell me when you have another contract, bossman."

The Cleaner leaves with a wave of his hand, sauntering away in an exceptional display of low-class swagger, and Shido averts his eyes. This was just one necessary sacrifice to guarantee his seat in the next election.

When he was Prime Minister, he will naturally solve issues like these.

So, it seems his fellow God's Chosen chose a man like Fusatsune instead of himself?

Fascinating, Shido thinks with a derisive chuckle.

And truly idiotic.

  


* * *

  


[Hatake Tobe: I'm fine. Don't worry about me.]

[Hatake Tobe: Not your problem. Worry about yourself first, Akechi.]

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for what is going to be a long AN, but also there's so much great art last chapter that I have to share! Please check them out if you wish=>  
>   
> Aquavintage drew Morrigan's outfit, and Morrikechi looks so cool. Are plague doctor masks an acceptable aesthetic XD Thank you so much! https://twitter.com/te_haitch/status/1310129510507884546  
> A 1 AM meme from JGameCartoonFan of Futaba waiting for Akechi (i only just saw Akechi haha). Thanks for the laugh hehe, I needed it ^^.  
> https://ibb.co/TcdVR22  
> And a rendition of Akechi from Akira's point of view - with marigolds blooming in the background and shoujo manga prince eyes from Kimonoforlove. Thank you so much! Akira totally looks at Akechi in such a manner hehe  
> https://twitter.com/kimonoforlovex2/status/1312978050548731904?s=09
> 
> Otherwise um, hello! I am back! My exam went ok (cough) and last weekend was a long weekend where I went on a spontaneous trip with my fam so I couldn't really write. (And then genshin impact came and ruined my life venti pls come to me ilu). I also noticed some of you guys are rereading. Thank you! But also that's a lot of reading XD
> 
> Sorry for the slightly short chapter, but i think im back in the groove! Kaneshiro is finished, Shido is determined to get everything under control like the control freak he is and is getting a clue (I really like smart evil villains who do smart things but sometimes i wonder if i should make shido dumber.), another piece of Akira's future/past, Fusa's arc will happen after the Phantom Thief arc so he's safe for now lol, and on the plus side, Haru is back!  
> I really shouldn't break habit like this too often though. i lose my ideas XD
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support, comments and kudos! We ticked over 3000 (you guys are nuts) so I'm going to aim to write something for the shorts this week. ^^ I can't promise anything because I already have a few ideas, but anything you guys wanna see/have questions I can vaguely hint at/just want akeshu damnuauthor/want angst i have spades?  
> I feel like I'm being draggy, so next chapter is going to be various Arcanas + start of Hinata probably which will be fun! :D Sorry for my typos, I'll edit through the week. See you next week!


	38. Chapter 38

Akechi doesn't like the smell of alcohol.

There are many reasons why someone would use alcohol and its relevant associations other than enjoyment. He was lucky to be young enough to laugh offers of it off during business parties – he knew that not many in business would reject a glass of wine during a dinner party, holding onto them to demonstrate they're part of this grand ritual callednetworking. It would only be within privacy areas, a distanced terrace, a breath of fresh air would any admit that they didn't much like drinking but had to anyway – because it was expected. Akechi has seen it before, businessmen drinking themselves red to prolong the evening, break deals, demonstrate their drunkenness as a show of trust and vomiting it all right into a bucket held up by hotel staff.

There were his peers, only beginning to see how large the world can be, filled with opportunities to be explored and risks that were just the murmurs of over-cautious adults. What's a year or two matter? "Drink it!" They'd elbow and nudge at one another in cautious excitement as they headed to a friend's house after school whose parents won't be there. "Come on, I sneaked it out of my dad's cabinet! It's the good stuff!" They'd echo, as if they had any discerning taste.

And there were those Akechi walked most often encountered in investigations, where alcohol and substances was an escape.

Alcoholism and dependence weren't limited to the dregs of society. It was merely the fact that the with money came more secure channels to procure addictive needs, who in turn could hide their illicit activities better. Many of the upper crust depended on drugs and alcohol to survive their day-to-day work, with many he'd met who held high-stress jobs within finance or economics winking at him through the hint of something sharp in the air from the rolled cigarettes in their hands.

 _"To take the load off,"_ one of them had once told him over a polite chat about her burgeoning business. The woman, with painted coral lips and eyeshadow to match, had tapped one knowing finger to her forehead. _"The world is all in our minds, dear. Change our minds, and we change the world."_

She'd blown a cloud of smoke over his head to blur the sunset that was burning the Tokyo skyscrapers into wide panes of flaming red. A wry smile spread across her face when she watched it dissipate, breathing in another burst of cigarette smoke deep into her lungs.

Akechi does not like the smell of smoke either. It's a sign of another facet of society's pathos, of humanity's innate weakness. A strength that relies on substance dependence was hardly a strength worth mentioning.

Though it's in moments like these – of the woman, utterly at peace – that he lets himself wonder how those substances changed their world.

What was so compelling in those moments of lost time?

What did they see?

_("I dreamed about a world without you tonight. I was so…"_

_A hand on his cheek. He feigns sleep._

_"Goro, why do you still love me?")_

  


* * *

  


Akechi looks at the texts in his phone for a grim second before switching the screen off.

"Here is fine," he tells the taxi driver at a quieter street that hasn't yet verged into the central business district. He pays the driver quickly, stepping out into a stuffy summer evening that was only just greeting the swarms of businesspeople leaving their workplaces.

Infiltrating Okumura's Palace was as easy as before. Keywords tend to stick to his memory, especially ones that are as distinctive as Kunikazu's. Not even in the most corrupted parts of society does one often find an individual so engrossed in themselves to think their company as an isolated spaceport. Kunikazu Okumura is so entrenched in their delusion that the entire reality of Tokyo city is made out of the void of space.

In their past reality, the Phantom Thieves had sketched out a brief picture of how Haru had been recruited. She had been reticent about it, most likely wanting to avoid her father's murderer while keeping up the Thieves' pretence, but Akira had shared enough. Morgana, after an argument with Ryuji after Futaba's Palace, had delved into Okumura's Palace and dragged Haru with him. They had escaped intact and planned on infiltrating the Palace themselves, only to be intercepted by Akira's party. Haru confronted Okumura's reality of her and Awakened.

And like so many other coincidences in Akira's life, Haru joining the Thieves with Psio neatly clicked her into place amongst the others.

Thinking about it, it's ironic that despite being their betrayer, Akechi holds the Curse and Bless skills that completes Akira's collection of powers.

The moment he warps into the Palace entrance, he doesn't even have a moment to orient himself in the console room before he hears faint voices echoing in the distance. The elevator has already been activated, leaving a hole in the floor leading to the depths of Okumura's Palace.

"Get behind me, Haru! Zorro! _Garula!"_

Good. They're still alive.

Since Morgana came straight from Kaneshiro's Palace, he doesn't have many high hopes of him escaping by himself. Okumura's ambitions have attracted Shadows several times stronger than what Kaneshiro had in his own Palace, and the struggle is obvious by the strain in Morgana's voice when Akechi hears the next snatch of conversation.

"Resistance is futile, weakling," a robotic voice replies before there's the sound of something firing, a mechanical whir. Morgana's voice curses in pain.

"No, I won't give up! Again, Zorro! _Garula!"_

A gentle breeze flows upwards from the elevator as Akechi looks down and assesses the distance to the next floor. Too deep to jump. The circular walls were too smooth for handholds, and the elevator had no way of calling it back up once it changed floors.

Akechi hums.

Yes, last time he had the same issue after Akira infiltrated. However, if he remembered correctly, just past the elevator there was a control room filled with monitors and consoles. When Akechi walks into the vast, empty room filled with nonsense space exploration charts, he immediately turns left. There's a loose wall panel close by that's easy to pry off, revealing long cables that reach from floor to ceiling.

It only takes a moment to concentrate, gripping his lightsabre in his hand and drawing it out in a bright flash of energy that flies upwards in a halfmoon curve, cutting lengths of cables far off the floor. It's easy business to cut the other end and haul the cables back to the empty elevator.

With three long cords that he ties together, he rappels down the walls just in time to hear Morgana give a gasp of pain. With proximity, Haru's softer voice becomes more apparent. Strangely, she doesn't sound scared or intimidated at all.

If anything, she's the one who sounds authoritative.

"Why are you doing such a horrible thing? Stop it!"

"Scanning: you are Haru Okumura." The Shadow replies. "We will stop. He is a weakling anyway."

"Yes, now go away!" Haru's voice is chiding, and when Akechi rounds the corner he sees the two down the corridor, Haru's bent over a battered looking Morgana. "Oh, you poor thing…"

It takes barely a second for the Shadow to turn and recognise Akechi standing at the entrance to the corridor. It's not as if Akechi had made any great effort to hide either, and the robot's mask flashes red.

"Intruder! Intruder! Preparing for engagement!"

Haru startles even as Akechi suppresses an annoyed sigh. His hand is already on his gun, readying a shot until the Shadow reveals itself to be a Girimehkala. It leers from its large tusked mouth, its long elephant snout curling upwards in preparation for an attack that Akechi isn't stupid enough to allow.

"Haru-san, cover the cat's eyes," Akechi says to the girl who is watching with wide eyes, holstering his gun. His other hand reaches for his mask instead.

He knows the very moment Haru recognises who he is, as her widened eyes go from examining the slightly grotesque humanoid form of Girimehkala to whip to him instead. Her eyes scan him up and down, lingering on the black blades in Morrigan's dark armour before she meets his eyes.

"O-okay!" Haru jolts into action, covering Morgana's vision by picking him up and hugging him to her. With that done, Akechi doesn't hesitate to mutter 'Robin Hood' to himself and let himself change from his armour to an unstained white prince, ripping the red mask from his face with a shout of _'Kougaon!'_

It knocks Girimehkala off its feet in a shout of pain and a sizzle of burnt flesh, staggering to the ground with a heavy metallic thud on the floor. Akechi quickly follows up with another shout of _'Kougaon!'_.

The second blinding flash of light later the Shadow directly melts into particles of red and black. Akechi makes sure to switch back to Morrigan's outfit before making a motion for Haru to let go of Morgana.

"B-black mask!" Morgana immediately gasps when he's free of Haru's grip. He's looking more than a little pathetic from where he's dangling from Haru's arms. He looks near fainting. "Why… why are you here?!"

His words are nearly swallowed by Haru's own.

"Akechi-kun, why are you here?"

Morgana's next inhale breaks into soggy coughs as he squirms in Haru's arms when he hears that. Haru humours him, stroking his large head with a smile as Morgana gapes up at her.

"Wha- Did you just say _Akechi_ , as in _Goro Akechi_ , Second Coming of the Detective Prince, that one guy who has been on the Phantom Thieves' case since the beginning?"

Haru tilts her head back up to look at Akechi's profile in Morrigan's suit, before looking down at Morgana with bewilderment.

"Oh, is it that shocking? I thought it was quite obvious. I'm used to hearing Akechi-kun's voice from his political serials. They are quite entertaining to watch, and quite relaxing when I am calculating fertiliser adjustments late at night…" Haru trails off, and Morgana takes a deep breath.

"As in, Akechi, the detective that's met all of us at least a few times before? The one that's Joker's middle school friend who he's totally into?" Morgana says, his voice getting fainter and fainter by the second. "You mean the one that… You know what, it doesn't matter. I-I think I'm going to faint."

Out of all the nonsense Morgana is spewing, the last phrase garners his attention. Akechi strides forward, and when he's within reach he gives Morgana's oversized head a smack to wake him back up.

"You're a healer," Akechi states shortly. "Cast a Diarama on yourself," Akechi orders, "and we will continue this conversation in a place where there are less chances of Shadows disrupting our conversation. They won't be an issue for me, but both you and Haru are useless at the moment." When Morgana pouts mulishly, seemingly wanting to protest, Akechi narrows his eyes. "Don't waste time and do it. Didn't you just feel the taste of defeat?"

Morgana grits his teeth at that. After a moment he complies, reaching out a weak paw and grasping his mask. Then he rips it off.

"Zorro, _Diarama!_ "

Haru makes a sound of suppressed delight when a green light encapsulates Morgana and heals all his visible wounds. Morgana visibly regains energy, ears perking up and his eyes brightening as he reassesses his surroundings again and bites his lip.

"…Akechi's right, talking here is dangerous for Haru. Let's go back up," he says, one ear flicking backwards to tickle Haru's chin.

Haru, who wasn't flustered at all by the fantastical Metaverse she's surrounded in, seemed more invested in the dynamics between him and Morgana as she watched them with the wide eyes of a spectator. She nods hurriedly when Morgana looks up at her.

"Ah, yes, Mona-chan. Right. Let's get going, um, Akechi-kun…"

She trails off, aborting her hand when she reached towards him.

Haru cringes back a little, a small grimace on her face as if she was suddenly reliving that moment underneath the golden chandeliers and her fiance's smarmy smile. It seems their awkward parting back when they were still first year high schoolers finally struck.

Akechi himself is struck by a nostalgia when he sees Haru's face. Her features are still delicate, though she has grown into her looks a little more, giving her an air of maturity that hadn't been present before. Her hair is still in the same style, kept short right about her shoulders in gentle light waves which had always seemed so natural compared to so many other men and women who oiled their hair to perfection.

"Hello, Haru-san," Akechi says, voice perfunctory as he listens to the tell-tale whir of a Shadow approaching them from deeper within the corridor. The gun on his hip feels all too familiar in his hands as he raises it to a point just past Haru's head and fires. The laser beam hits the Shadow straight in its mask and shatters it with a splintering sound, disintegrating it before it can even properly turn the corner. Morgana watches this with his mouth hanging open, muttering, _'even Joker can't do that!'_ as Akechi lowers his gun and nods at them sharply to get back to the elevator.

This time the other two don't hesitate.

By the time the third patrolling Shadow makes an appearance, they are all safely back at the entrance of the Palace where no Shadows roam. The large Big Bang Burger sign is once again scrolling above their heads, the large console room beyond them filling the air with sporadic bursts of futuristic beeping.

There is a small stand-off now that the excitement is gone.

Morgana squints at Akechi as if reassessing everything he's ever thought about him.

Haru is biting her lip. Her eyes are fixed onto Akechi as she squeezes Morgana tight to her purple coat. She's the only spot of mundanity in Okumura's ostentatious Palace, Shujin's skirt peeking out over her knees.

Akechi watches the both of them, feeling like the day has stretched too long. Shido's voice still echoes in his ears – he still smells gunpowder burning in that acrid stink as he sees himself winning a battle and Fusa losing a war. There is nothing he wishes to say to these two, except confirm their safety for the sake of the future. So he gives them a brief, professional nod, before turning around to exit.

Haru immediately gasps.

"Akechi-kun, please wait! Before you leave, please let me say one thing." Haru places Morgana on the ground, before she hurriedly steps forward. Akechi stops when he hears the quick patter of feet behind him. Silently, he turns and fixes his eyes on Haru. Watches, as she bends down into a deep, apologetic bow. "Forgive me for what I said, the last time we met."

Akechi watches as Haru keeps her bow for a second, before straightening up. The eyes that had once been always tinged with a faint sadness are now full of determination. Like a little spark of the Noir he remembers clicking into place, Haru brings her hands to her chest, grasping them together tightly.

"Akechi-kun, you may not believe me when I say this. I will understand why, if my assumptions about you are still correct. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Haru smiles a little nervously, her voice as soft and gentle as ever. Her hands are still wound tightly together. "But please humour me for a few moments, as I've thought about our encounter back then many times. When I… rejected our friendship and your offer of help."

Haru's speech seems almost rehearsed. As if she had prepared such a speech ahead of time, for when they met again. Haru Okumura, who greeted the Metaverse with casual aplomb and berated Shadows whose powers eclipsed hers by far stood anxious in front of him as she shyly bows her head, fumbling for more words to continue.

Akechi sighs in his head.

Akira's party were all like this, some detached part of Akechi's brain thinks. Perhaps like attracts like.

Straight-forward, honest. Blazing forward, even if the risks of rejection were great. So unlike Akechi, who would have wiled and prodded, gathered information and moulded himself into a script and personality which would most likely succeed.

It'll be easy to give a fake smile to Haru right now and be done with it.

But Akechi remembers a soft kiss on his forehead. Of a grandmotherly smile and blinding sunshine, of a warm dinner and an acceptance that was given so freely he didn't have to claw and manipulate and scheme to make it continue.

_Because forgiveness is ultimately peace._

Of home.

Masks upon masks upon masks, in front of people he thinks will accept him even if he dropped all of it.

At this mad thought, he laughs a little emptily. In the metal chambers of Okumura's reception it echoes, and a chorus of empty laughter mocks the thought with him.

"Haru-san, what has been done is in the past," Akechi says when he finally finishes laughing. It ends with him staring up at the vaulted ceiling where there was a panoramic mapping of the galaxy they were supposedly passing. It is an infinite stretch of stars graphed with impossible destinations, a graphic representation of the ambitions of an obsessed man. It is still beautiful, in its infinity, and Akechi doesn't bother looking away when he keeps talking. "We were young back then, dealing with issues too large for the both of us. They may still be too large for us, if the rumours I've heard of Sugimura are correct. You have probably already surmised my own issues are… hardly resolved."

"I still should have done more," Haru says with a small droop of her shoulders. "I can't claim to have a strong record when I think about past incidences of going against my father, but—"

"I forgive you, Haru-san," Akechi interrupts clearly. He brings his gaze down to rest squarely on Haru's face and wonders if she sees how time has treated him just as well as he sees her.

By how she's assessing him, he thinks she does.

"This went by a lot easier than I thought," Haru says out loud to herself, untwisting her hands. "I mean no disrespect, but I was expecting a little more… resistance." When Akechi stays silent at her silent enquiry, Haru accepts the boundary he draws with an understanding nod. "Then before we leave, may I assume that we have rekindled our friendship?" She changes tack. "It may be strange for me to say, since I was the one who cut ties with you, Akechi-kun, but I missed you dearly these years."

"…My number hasn't changed these past few years, Haru-san. If you wish, you can use it."

"Oh, thank you, Akechi-kun!" Haru says with a small clap of her hands. "I look forward to any meetings we have in the future, especially with the added element of all this in between." Haru finally addresses the elephant in the room – her father's Palace, Akechi's outfit and powers, and Morgana's transformation into a bipedal three-dimensional cartoon. "I have to admit, knowing that there is such a secret realm in a world I've thought strictly scientific until now is quite exciting. Especially you, Mona-chan. You were in the middle of explaining what you were when we were attacked."

Morgana, silent until now – perhaps a habit ingrained because of how he's always in Joker's bag – finally sputters to life when he's addressed.

"You guys _know_ each other?"

"Why, yes," Haru replies without missing a beat, smile cheerful. "We were quite good friends once, but unfortunately there were… complications, as you heard, where I was the main cause. You just watched our reconciliation."

"Aren't you the one and only heiress to Okumura Foods? That company that owns Big Bang Burger?" Morgana pointedly gestures to the large Big Bang Burger signage scrolling above their heads, and Haru purses her lips.

"Yes? Is that an issue, Mona-chan?"

There's an underlying element in that question, a simmering cautiousness long-honed in Haru Okumura, heiress apparent. Her kindness has always belied her suspicions and disillusionment in the people around her, and Morgana shakes his head. He doesn't seem to catch Haru's small change of tone as he wheels on Akechi instead.

"You were friends with Joker before he came to Tokyo, a Detective Prince and rising star who we see plastered on TV all the time, and Lady Ann even said you were handsome! And now you're also the Black Mask that Futaba was chasing and old friends with the richest heiress in Tokyo?! Who are you, Goro Akechi?"

Akechi gives him a lackadaisical shrug. "That's irrelevant considering our current situation. Futaba has probably tracked my Metaverse activity by now," Akechi says conversationally. "Since I have an inkling for how… enthusiastic Futaba is, I can only imagine how she'll react thinking if it was me or you. Akira texted me, you know, asking me whether I knew where his lost cat had gone. Your old team seems quite frantic."

Additionally, if Futaba truly reported his entrance into Okumura's Palace to the Thieves, Akira wouldn't say no. He would be curious, at least, on whether it was Akechi or Morgana, both who were currently on his priorities list.

Morgana winces.

"I don't want to go back yet," he pouts, expression as mulish as a pseudo-cat face can get. "They can continue being worried, for all I care! I need to prove myself first, before going back. With what happened today, I'll just be proving them right. That I am a useless addition to the team."

Haru's heart obviously melts a little when Morgana's ears droop, tail resting sadly on the floor.

"Oh, Mona-chan. Did you run away from home?"

Morgana bristles. "No, I didn't run away! That makes it sound so juvenile! I'm obviously just… retiring from the Phantom Thieves for now."

"Making people who care about you worry is bad, you know," Haru crouches down in from of Morgana, voice gentle. "No matter what you think, they seem to be searching very hard for you right now, Mona-chan. They even asked Akechi-kun to help find you, a professional detective!"

"No, that's just because he's always at the top of Joker's texting list," Morgana's trying to say, but Haru shakes her head.

"Even so, they care about you. I understand if you don't want to face them just yet. Arguments with those you care for can be quite hurtful, so I'll bring you home with me if you wish. I'd be worried about you if I left you on the streets alone, and you have so many things left to teach me!" Haru's smiles have always hid an element of steel, and it's even more apparent now when she lifts one finger. "But I have a condition, Mona-chan."

"Wh-what is it?" Morgana hesitates at Haru's sudden seriousness.

"You have to leave a message. For… Joker, did you say? Even if you don't think they love you right now, I believe that love isn't so easily changed. Even if they act cold, or maybe a little confusingly, the care they've shown you in the past isn't a lie, Mona-chan. Think past the moments that you're angry with and don't you have a lot of loving memories with the Thieves?"

Akechi notes that Haru's basically narrating her own feelings towards her father to Morgana, who doesn't notice with the lack of context at his disposal. Morgana merely bows his head as he thinks it over, and a lot of that stubbornness is gone from his body posture when he sighs.

"I see what you mean," he grumbles, and Haru smiles in satisfaction, reaching out to stroke Morgana on the head.

"I'm glad you understand me, Mona-chan. Thank you for that. Now, don't you have message to leave with Akechi-kun before we all leave this place?"

Akechi, on the side, is mildly impressed that Haru has exerted more influence on Morgana's moods and whims in a minute than Akira had in all the year and a half that Akechi has known him to do.

Does Akira have a thing for difficult people?

"Tell Joker not to worry," Morgana mumbles underneath Haru's approving eye. "But I'm not going to go back any time soon."

"Anything else, Mona-chan?"

"No," Morgana says just like a petulant child, and Haru obviously has a lot more patience with this kind of thing when she only reacts with a small click of her tongue and picks him up. Then she looks at Akechi in gentle enquiry.

He checks the time.

If he assumed Futaba had been notified the moment he entered and Shibuya was a mere twenty minutes away from the CBD where the Okumura Foods Administration Building was, then…

"We need to go," Akechi says. "Haru-san, look at your phone. There should be an application that looks like a pulsing red eye. That's the way in and out of this alternate dimension."

"A phone application? That's so… novel," Haru says as she shifts Morgana to her other arm and fishes her phone out of one of the large pockets in her lavender jacket. "Alright, I've found it. So I just tap it?"

"Yes. I will take my leave first, Haru-san."

"I'll get in touch!" Haru promises with a smile and a cheerful wave. "Goodbye, Akechi-kun!"

That is the last image he sees – of Haru's smiling from the bottom of her heart as she waves him goodbye.

A simple, easy reconciliation.

To think forgiveness could be so straight-forward when it was freely given. Peace wasn't an inaccurate analogy, Akechi thinks as the world warps back into focus. The smell of Tokyo smog in the remnants of a humid summer day hits like a sudden wet blanket on the senses as he begins sneaking his way back to his dorm.

With Kaneshiro's Palace completed and the addition of Haru by Morgana's side, it seems that his actions have somehow drawn all the Phantom Thieves together at a much faster pace than expected. The Thieves had originally infiltrated Okumura's Palace in October, with November being Sae's Palace, and Shido's Palace being the focus in December.

Today is June the twenty-second.

Haru's inclusion is a whole three months early.

It's an interesting facet in a situation that will grow rapidly more complicated soon. Disregarding his personal affairs, Shido will put pressure on the SIU Director soon for answers in regards to Kaneshiro, who will in turn put pressure on Principal Kobayakawa. Akechi will at least be free of that debacle for the time being, as he has already long submitted his lists of suspects and evidence in regards to Shujin Academy.

Soon, Shido will cook up the MEDJED affair with the President of the IT company that he had in his pocket. Akechi, of course, already held the counter to this with his contact with Futaba.

If there was anything that Akechi had to admit he was similar to his father, it was their preference for plans that accomplished multiple goals.

Three birds with one stone. Make the Thieves take down untrustworthy members of Shido's Conspiracy, while using them as the last step of his publicity push in November by discrediting them in October with Kunikazu. Everything, of course, was motivated for the success of Shido's election. Additionally, dissipating the Thieves' influence would also be the first step in getting rid of Shido's first Metaverse rivals.

That night, Akechi sets his alarm for school the next day planning his next few steps. Fusa had sent him another text, deep into the night when he was scribbling the last lines of his Japanese essay.

[Hatake Tobe: Lie low]

  


* * *

  


He wouldn't be surprised that Fusa taking action yesterday had made Shido suspicious enough to dismiss his surveillance on Akechi, so he limits the people he meets for now.

He has two Arcana options to choose from if he thinks of his current limitations this way.

Sae, who he visits after school as he retrieved some files, sighs at her usual seat in the quiet seating area of Police Headquarters. She's still in the middle of investigations, and talking to her gave him the impression that she wasn't ready to rank up just yet.

"I think I'll have a job for you soon, Akechi-kun," Sae had said while massaging her forehead with a grimace. "I just need to double-check some things. Yukimura's family is being reticent even though they agreed to cooperate with investigations. I'll need extra hands after I untangle the cause."

"You know where to find me if you need assistance," Akechi says as he smiles at her. Sae gives him a grateful nod before shooing him away to 'study, aren't you a third year? Your university applications are coming along soon.'

After giving her a platitude, he went on his way to visit his other, officially sanctioned Arcana.

Shiho has been moved to another hospital room because of the rapid progress in her recovery. She's still struggling with walking, and the doctors were still monitoring her motor reactions in concern after her spinal trauma, but her new room is in the rehabilitative part of the hospital instead of the trauma ward, and she seems happy with her progress.

"I've found that you're a wonderful person to speak about things like this, Akechi-kun," Shiho says that afternoon with a small giggle. "Thank you for visiting. Even though you're not my therapist, I hope you don't mind I look to you like a friend."

"Being your friend would be an honour, Suzui-san," Akechi had replied as he sat next to her. His visits have long-lost the pretence of interviewing, as they delve into random conversations.

Shiho, Akechi has found, when she's not in a particularly quiet mood or depressed, can be quite odd.

For example, when she spotted a heavily pierced visitor walking down the hallway, a curious expression crossed her face.

"I've always wondered, Akechi-kun," she said in her usual candid fashion, eyes following the visitor until they were out of sight. "Whenever I see a nose piercing, I can't help but want to ask them. Do you think snot gets stuck on their piercings when they blow their nose?"

Akechi's an experienced conversationalist. He has fielded questions on economics, politics, law and the progression of media with the simple tactic of replying 'Let me think' and analysing what the other wants to hear.

So he'd replied, 'Let me think' that day, putting a hand on his chin while he thought about what Shiho would expect as an answer. She'd sat, pleasant smile on her face holding a little twinkle of knowing mischief, and when he noticed Akechi had to control himself to not roll his eyes. "Suzui-san," he says with exasperation, and Shiho laughed.

"You were so serious!" She smothers her laughs into her hand. "I already know the answer, you know. I asked this trendy shopkeeper on Shibuya's central street a few years ago, and they told me that it depends on the piercing! That's a new piece of trivia for you when you go on TV, Akechi-kun."

"Very useful," he had replied dryly, to which Shiho gave him a wise nod, patting herself proudly on the chest for imparting wisdom.

Another day she had asked him to judge the nail art that Ann had done for her the last time she visited. It was a little clumsy, some of the paint touching the skin on the sides, but Shiho had looked at them with pride all the same.

"I've been playing volleyball since I was in primary school," Shiho shared that day, "and so I've never had the chance to grow out my nails enough to do all the really pretty art. I've always been the one who did Ann's nails, you know? So we took the chance this time when we noticed my nails grew out. So, want to try, Akechi-kun? You're always wearing your uniform, it's such a shame. Don't you think a striking colour like red would look good on you?"

Akechi had declined, and she had slyly revisited the topic every few minutes during that conversation, to both their amusements.

Today, Shiho gives him an assessing eye the moment he walks in, before nodding.

"Alright. I think we can both do with some fresh air, Akechi-kun. If you don't mind helping me into my wheelchair, how does it sound to go to the roof?"

Shiho has long been removed from suicide watch, so the request isn't something he can't do. Soon enough they're riding the elevator upwards towards the hospital roof. He's been there before – there were seats and benches on one side, while half the roof was cordoned off for the sake of clothes lines and drying miscellaneous laundry.

Shiho takes over the wheelchair the moment they arrive near some seating, wheeling herself to the west side of the hospital roof and sighing at the disappointing view. The hospital is nestled within a host of buildings in different sizes and heights, and just across the street on the west side is a tall hotel building, a long stretch of concrete and glass that blocks their sight.

"Sometimes you can see the shadows of the mountains bordering our city if we're high enough," Shiho explains when Akechi has walked close enough. "I like to imagine that I can see Mount Mitake when I'm up high. It's kind of like a family tradition to go hiking there every summer and winter." She tilts her head back to squint at the hotel rooms looming over them, "I like going there by myself sometimes, if I have a free day. My therapist told me to have a goal for my rehab, so I told them I'm going to hike up Mount Mitake when I fully recover. I just don't know if I can," Shiho says with a slight grimace. "We've found a school that doesn't mind leaving a place for me to enrol whenever I recover, but it's… It's in Shizuoka."

"That's not too far from Tokyo," Akechi tries to encourage, and Shiho sighs.

Shiho slowly wheels herself closer to a bench and settles beside it. Akechi takes the unspoken invitation, and they both sit with their backs facing disappointing the hotel to watch laundry sheets flap in the slight wind instead. Summer sun is doing its job – most of the sheets already look dry, and the gentle sound of moving cloth fills the silence.

"Do you feel better now, Akechi-kun?" Shiho reaches out and pats his arm with her smile in a familiar curve. "You put on that television smile only when you're upset, you know."

Akechi's expression doesn't falter when he shoots it right back. "You also only smile a certain way when you're upset, Suzui-san," Akechi responds, and Shiho blinks in surprise before her smile breaks into something more genuine. A little crooked, a little wider.

"Then we're both not as good at lying as we think we are," Shiho replies, resting her head on the wheelchair's head support. It's angle is perfect for her to rest it back, looking out into their own square of blue sky unswallowed by hotels and apartments and concrete.

An aeroplane jets across that small piece of sky in a distant whoosh of metallic engines.

It seems like holding a real gun for the first time in so long had rattled him far more than he thought, if people are noticing.

"When was the last time you took a little bit of me-time?" Shiho asks in barely a murmur. She's closed her eyes, appreciating the shade and silence.

The door to the roof had been creaky and loud without a glass pane to look through. There's no-one else on the roof currently.

Akechi still doesn't feel safe enough to close his eyes.

"Last week," Akechi says to deflect the question. Shiho gives him a dubious hum.

"Make sure you take care of yourself, Akechi-kun," she says. "It's something everyone's been telling me, so it's only poetic justice for me to say it to someone else!"

Akechi laughs, before shaking his head.

"Suzui-san, they have good reason to care about your health."

"I've already gotten better though," Shiho replies. "Well, mostly anyway. I wish they'd believe me when I say… You know, Akechi-kun. That moment, when I jumped off the building, do you know what I thought?"

Shiho doesn't open her eyes.

"I wasn't going to let _Kamoshida_ be my last ever thought, so I tried to think of other things. And the moment I fell, I remembered I forgot that I promised Ann that we'd go to this creperie together. I'd told her 'later' the week before, you see? She'd been looking forward to it. For us to spend some nice girl time again. It's kind of stupid when I think about it," Shiho laughs. "While others have their life flash past their eyes or go through a dramatic tunnel of light or something when they go through a life and death experience, all I could think of was blueberry crepes."

Another plane echoes over their heads, jetting a parabola in the boundary between earth and space. Shiho opens her eyes to watch it pass.

"The very first moment I woke up, I saw Ann and told her I was sorry. That I didn't tell her what was happening. That she had to see something like that. That I forgot about our promise to eat crepes together. Ann burst out crying, and she's not the type to do that, usually. She rarely ever cries. She's the type to get angry instead of cry, and here she was, crying, and that's the first thing I regretted the most. That I made Ann cry, and nothing I said helped stop it. I hurt her so much."

"What are you trying to say, Suzui-san?"

"Nothing," Shiho replies, tone innocent. "Just reminding myself, conveniently out loud, that no matter how stressed, or lonely, or… whatever negative feelings you may be feeling, that there will be people who find you precious. It just so happens that you're next to me, Akechi-kun, with a long face! How curious."

Shiho is shameless when she adjusts her head on the headrest and gives him a small grin.

"I've recently learnt that when you take good care of yourself, you're also taking good care of the feelings and care of the people who treasure you. Whenever I think about doing something unhealthy, Ann's crying face comes to my mind and I stop."

"That's not the issue, Suzui-san," Akechi says to Shiho, who settles into her wheelchair a little deeper to listen intently. "Perhaps the issue is… the opposite. I'm the one worrying over someone else's reckless actions."

Shiho's face brightens.

"Then do what Ann did to me," she says. "She yelled at me for being stupid, whacked a pillow, cried over me for an hour, and then told me she loved me. It's effectively made me much more self-conscious of my actions since."

Imagining Akechi doing that to Fusa is such a ridiculous image it makes him cover his mouth in an unexpected burst of laughter.

"There you go," Shiho says with satisfaction. "I know that… sometimes words can never fix what needs to be fixed. But laughter is a strong enough band-aid. Come here whenever you need some clumsy cheering up, okay? You've done enough of it for me, Akechi-kun. I unload all the stuff I don't know how to say to Ann to you, you know."

"Suzui-san…"

"Yes?"

"No," Akechi interrupts himself. He shakes his head, before leaning backwards on the seat. "I can admit that I may have needed that laugh."

"Glad to help, Ace Detective-san," Shiho playfully salutes him. "Now let's stay here for a while longer. I can't stand that stuffy room sometimes."

**Temperance Rank 4 – Shiho Suzui**

  


* * *

  


"Why is my Persona so weak?" Haru asks when they're in Okumura's Palace. Morgana had requested him to be there through Haru's phone. Since there was still a week for Kaneshiro's change of heart to manifest, Akechi promised to make time after his usual detective work. After faking a trail back to his dorms, he caught a train from Shibuya to the business district where he directly entered the Palace and waited for them.

Haru and Morgana warped inside a few minutes later, and Morgana was already chattering to Haru.

"Now all we have to do is awaken your spirit of Rebellion!" Morgana was promising as he bounces out of Haru's arms and jumps towards the elevator. "You must have the potential, if you got the app. Aren't you horrified by how your dad thinks about his company?"

"Of course I am," Haru had replied. "My deepest thanks, Akechi-kun, for supervising us. I understand that your time is precious."

After that they had toured as deeply as Morgana had dared into Okumura's Palace, but despite her outrage and horror at what Haru saw, she still failed to fully manifest her Persona.

"We have to stop my father, I know," Haru says, squeezing her eyes shut. The two are standing in a small alcove hidden away from the great part of the Palace while Akechi stands outside, ready to kill any Shadow that came their way. "But even now I can't help but believe in father. I still feel like I have a chance to make him change if I can find time to speak to him, that he'll listen to me if I show him my concerns."

"Haru… It's okay," Morgana stands up straight and crosses his arms confidently. "We'll go back to the real world and maybe we can write a letter to your father. Just because he has a Palace doesn't mean he doesn't care about you."

"Thank you for being so supportive, Mona-chan," Haru smiles at him. "Let's do that when we get home."

The manifestation of Haru's Persona is so weak that her uniform hadn't even changed into Noir's familiar musketeer's costume.

"Why did you argue with the Phantom Thieves anyway, Mona-chan?" Haru asks as they head back to the entrance, and Morgana sighs.

"Well… They called me useless. And I, I mean, I didn't mean to overreact that much. But after that it kind of hit a sore spot… so I blew up and ran away. But it was all stupid Ryuji's fault anyway."

Akechi gives a derisive snort from where he's walking in front of them when he hears that. He can practically feel Morgana's hackles being raised.

"Hey, Black Mask. What's that mean?"

"Just laughing at your hypocrisy," Akechi replies lightly. "Here you are, complaining about someone insulting your insecurity, while you do the exact same thing in the same breath. It's always a pleasure to see someone stuck in their own victimised mindset to neglect others. Wouldn't you agree, Haru-san?"

Morgana gives an angry grunt as he bounds in front of Akechi.

Akechi's smile is a gentle thing. Television perfect, as he looks down at Morgana who is glaring up at him.

"Offended? Don't be. I only tell the truth, you know."

"What do you mean?" Morgana demands, and Akechi sighs.

"I've pulled together the details of your argument. From my understanding, being called useless hit upon your insecurity about your role in the world, correct? Fearing you have no place in the Thieves, the one place you've felt belonging, you rejected them first to try see if they will beg you to come back. Perhaps it's correct for you to expect an apology. But in the same breath, you call Ryuji stupid."

"So?" Morgana blinks. "Why is that so…?"

"You forget I also know Ryuji Sakamoto," Akechi says, walking past Morgana. "Removed from the track team and the possibility of a sports scholarship, he was an outcast until he met Akira and joined the Thieves. Don't you call him 'stupid' and 'useless' with every second mention of him, when logic dictates that he would have similar insecurities over those very things?"

It's always so fascinating to see how verbal knives flay others, Akechi thinks. Some react defensively, launching attacks right back, while others are passive as they take it.

And some, like Morgana, are struck dumb.

"What," Akechi drawls. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Akechi-kun, perhaps you should let him recover," Haru says, picking Morgana up when it seems like he wasn't going to move, following him back down brightly lit corridors towards the entrance. "Mona-chan seems to be processing."

Morgana splutters to life with the next shot of Akechi's gun sniping a Shadow from a distance

"B-but it's different!"

"Is it?" Akechi asks right back. "How?"

"He just takes it as a joke!"

Akechi's smile gains a slightly more genuine tinge of mockery.

"Does he? Does he ever refer to himself as stupid as a joke, or as an apology? You put yourself on a high horse," Akechi laughs, "but in the end, you merely prove yourself short-sighted and immature, running away instead of communicating with those 'friends' that you say you 'trust'. Ryuji Sakamoto calls you useless and you run away demanding apology, but you call Ryuji useless and expect him to accept it as fact. Does one deserve more apology than the other because one is more sensitive, and the other more resilient?"

"I…"

"Mona-chan," Haru cuts in with sympathy when she sees Morgana struggling, "what I think Akechi-kun is trying to say is that Sakamoto-san might owe you an apology for hurting you, but that should make you reflect on your own actions too."

Morgana is silent then, all the way until the entrance of Okumura's Palace.

"Kaneshiro is showing signs of a Change of Heart. I'll send a letter to Futaba to tell her when to meet up with me soon," Akechi says to Morgana in Haru's arms. "I'll alert you when I go in so you can decide what you wish to do. No matter how you conduct your private business, you are still a useful Persona user."

Morgana finally opens his mouth.

"…Tell Akira I'll need a few more days. I'll go in with you."

Akechi gives the two a sharp nod before leaving the Metaverse first.

  


* * *

  


When July dawns, Futaba screeches so loud at the breakfast table that Sojiro nearly drops his cup of coffee onto his morning newspaper. Adrenaline skyrocketing, Sojiro straightens up in his chair and places his cup safely onto the table before he turns to Futaba.

She's holding an envelope with shaking hands.

"Ma-ma-mail! It's mail! From GA! I have to call the others!"

"Futaba, your curry?" Sojiro calls after her in concern, because even he ranked less important than finishing curry.

"I'll eat it later! I have something to do!" Futaba calls over her shoulder, and Sojiro looks at her half-eaten plate of curry with complicated feelings. Parenting books never covered the important things. Would it count as character development if his daughter was neglecting breakfast for her blossoming social life?

Sojiro sighed.

Being a dad is hard.

On the other hand, Futaba had already sent a mass block of text to the Thieves' group chat. It's a simple letter: acknowledging their efforts with Kaneshiro, alongside a date and time.

[Futaba: I know that Morgana hasn't come back yet, and we said we would wait for him.]

[Futaba: But you guys know how important this is to me.]

[Futaba: Please?]

[Ann: I feel uncomfortable knowing that we'll be heading into a Palace without Morgana but…]

[Makoto: Akira says that he's still cooling down at his friend's place, right?]

[Yusuke: Can you contact Morgana again, Akira?]

[Akira: I'll tell him the date and time.]

[Ryuji: That's settled then! We'll show that Black Mask just how capable we are!]

[Ryuji: Let's solve this once and for all.]

[Ryuji: You can count on us, Futaba!]

  


* * *

  


"GA didn't wait for us," Futaba squints at her readings. "He's definitely here, I can feel a strong signature maybe a third down this pit? He's not really moving forward, so maybe he's waiting for us down there."

The red moon is especially bright today, casting everyone's faces into stark shadows.

"Still as deep as ever," Ryuji groans when he peers into the pit. "How're we supposed to get in?"

Akira turns on Second Sight and sees the last track of footprints that were there.

"Follow me," he says while adjusting his gloves, head already turned to where he can see the footsteps trail around the pit, stopping somewhere in the distance. "We'll catch up."

"Yes, leader!" Futaba salutes, and Akira cracks a small smile before he turns.

He's let Goro wait for long enough.

  


* * *

  


Akechi stands in front of Hinata's Shadow where he had met her before and feels the extra edge in his mind again. It's a breath of fire, the slight ringing when a sword is swung perfectly, the flap of wings that flew strong and true. There is another in his mind, suppressed and waiting for his acknowledgment and his suspicions are fulfilled.

The parallels between Hinata and his mother are too big to ignore.

_Call my name!_

He hears it, beyond Robin's waves of sympathy for Hinata, of Morrigan's respectful silence when she watches Hinata's Shadow, her Palace, her self-hatred. The voice is strong, plumes of heat that crackles with energy, insistent to be heard.

But when he reaches for that name, there's something that stops him.

One day, he opened the door to his apartment and saw his mother had come back early. She was pouring uncooked rice into their rice cooker, washing the grains before measuring out the water she needed to cook for two. She's humming something just slightly out of tune, and Akechi didn't know it but it was her twenty-sixth birthday.

"Goro, welcome home," she said with a smile when the door closed with a loud click of the lock. Seeing her smile made Akechi feel a press of butterflies against his ribcage, fluttery emotions that threatened to burst out that he carefully doesn't show. He toed off his shoes like he's always been told, placing his red backpack by the doorway. It was only then that he allowed himself to pad across their small living room and enter the kitchen to hug one of her legs. It's obviously a good day when his mother reached down an absentminded hand – still slightly wet – and patted his head. "How did I give birth to a son that's so clingy, hmm?" She teases, and Akechi immediately lets go even though he wants to squeeze harder.

"I'm home," he says to that back, the tumbling brown hair held up in a casual ponytail.

She doesn't really turn around.

"Yes, I know. Take a shower so we'll have dinner on time, okay?"

_Call my name!_

The voice lies beyond the shadow of his mother's back, the lonely sound of a knife cutting vegetables at five in the morning, the smog of perfume, smoke and alcohol that lingered around the cute ruffles of her dresses.

"Welcome to Hell," Hinata says now, in front of him. There's more bone than before, more flesh that had been eaten away. Her face is the only thing that's moderately intact as she smiles, hair getting stuck inside cuts of her flesh, black smoke dripping down in almost sludge as she waves a skeletal hand. Her sigh is wistful as she looks down at the depths to whatever unknown lay beyond.

"Are you ready to understand the transactional nature of love?"

  


* * *

  


("It's only good that they found her child so early," one of the social workers were saying in the coffee room. "Did you hear? He was the person who found her after she killed herself. They didn't even take him seriously at first, so he was with her body for nearly an hour before someone came."

"Sometimes I'm glad that the world is rid of such irresponsible people," her friend replied, eyes fixed to her phone as she munched through a box of fruit. "Her life was a mess. She must've known that her kid would've been the one to find her, because she had no-one else, right? How could she do that to him? It's disgusting."

"Just don't have a child if you aren't prepared," the first social worker says into her cup of cheap coffee with a roll of her eyes. "At least now that she's dead, she can't harm her kid anymore, poor thing."

"That's one good thing," says her friend in agreement, still only half paying attention, and Akechi clenches his hand around the doorknob of the room. His hand doesn't entirely fit around it as he silently closes the door and tries to force himself to unclamp his hand from it. It's old and a little rusted, metallic paint chipped away from years and years of the wear and tear, and Akechi is trying his hardest to let go of the doorknob, but his knuckles had turned white from the strength of his grip.

Let go. They'd catch you eavesdropping soon. Remember what they did to Sen when they caught him lurking near the offices? Let go.

_Let it go._

Akechi pulls away from the door and his hands automatically curl into angry fists. His feet don't want to leave. He wants to stay and throw the door open, stomp on those women's feet with all the anger in his heart that he doesn't yet know how to fully express. He wants them all try saying all they did to his mother's photograph tucked inside his small bag of things under his bunk. Look at his mother's happy face and see if they could say such things when they attached it to a human face, a human life.

Deep in his heart, he knows they can if Akechi was away. They would shake their heads and sigh and put themselves above her, see themselves as long-suffering martyrs sweeping up another person's mess, and he _hates_ them.

He hates all of them. It's a burning rage that he doesn't know how to stop fanning as he continues listening in, to the whispers of volunteers and social workers and the fake care some of them seemed to think were genuine but fell flat because of how stretched they were, to give that paltry care to tens of children at once. It was a care that was more pity than love, seeing them as poor objects to save instead of seeing him as a person, and Akechi wished he had his mother _back._

Back before she had her heart crushed by that phone call. Back when things weren't perfect in their small apartment, but it had been quiet and nice and she still found it in her heart to hug him when she wasn't drunk and crying and hurting from something he thinks was loneliness even though he was right there with her.

Goro Akechi is eight years old and turning nine, and he knew one thing.

This world, which had not only failed his mother, but had crushed her into something even she herself had hated…

His nails dig into his palms.

He hates them.

He hates them all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy crap guys, this chapter came out _letter by letter_ it was so hard gah and im still not that happy with some bits but now it's done and im just going to move on! (shh i totes didn't just fall asleep while editing yesterday ufu. and before anyone expresses concern - im really not pushing myself guys. my daily life consists of waking up, work, get home, dinner, gaming/reading, sleep, and im just replacing gaming with writing right now AHA. im a boring lad).
> 
> Shiho is a chill lady, but she's going to go through some nonchill emotions soon, Sae is going hard on investigating, hinata is going to be wrapped up in the next few chapters, fusa is @_@, and my goal is to not trigger any more existential crisis from you guys. I started this aiming for wholesomeness! Well. My definition of wholesomeness anyway. The next chapter isn't that happy derp.  
> You guys make me happy while writing this. I understand just how hard englishing is *hugs*. Thank you very much for your comments and support! See you next week! I will try my best next chapter to write Haru better. For some reason she was SO HARD TO WRITE DEAR GOD HARU YOU'RE AMAZING but pls go easy on this poor bean of an author. I'm trying to give you more screentime but blaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
> 
> Akira, without Morgana for a solid 2 weeks: i finished all the library books + blew through 4 games + ranked up ohya and sojiro and finished off kawakami man doing more than 2 things after school is great


	39. Chapter 39

There's a memory that has always stuck by Hinata.

When she was twelve years old, right when she was just starting to be rebellious and becoming not-so-much the perfect girl that her parents wished her to be, she had started a fight in the playground.

She doesn't remember what it was now. All she remembers is that one minute she was talking to her friends talking about how Akihito-san was so fierce when he directed the members of the soccer team (they had been desk-mates in primary, and he'd always been really nice, if a little too loud) and the next minute she had her fist in her friend's face from anger. She thinks it was some odd comment – maybe about how he was half-black, or maybe some twisted schoolgirl giggling about something that's funny because it's offensive – but she'd punched them anyway.

Hinata didn't entirely regret her decision to punch, anger still hot in her stomach, but she did know how serious it was when she stood in the principal's office and nothing came to her mouth to defend herself when demands for an explanation came from the principal, the teacher who saw the whole thing, her friend's mom who arrived first, her friend's judgmental eyes. They all demanded her to apologise with fierce frowns and condemnation already in their voices and gestures, crowding her, intimidating her.

Hinata still didn't regret the punch, but she did feel a little bit scared when she looked at all of them and all she could think was white noise.

That was when her mother had appeared. She opened the door, took in the situation in a second, and firmly strode over and stood between them.

"We need to hear all sides of the situation first," her mother said, her small shoulders set firm, her businesswoman's smile holding something fierce. Hinata had already grown to reach her mother's ears, to the point that she couldn't really hide behind her, but in that moment she felt safe. Her mother was always logical and thorough, and she demanded that from the room the moment she stepped in. "I step in this room and only see aggressors here when there should be discussion."

"What's there to discuss?" Her friend's mother asked with her hands clenched tight on her own daughter's shoulders. There's a round bruise blooming on her her friend's cheek that's half-hidden by the ice-pack she's holding to her face. "Your daughter punched my daughter. Can't you see she's bruising right now? You should teach her manners and decency befitting a girl her age."

Her mother didn't falter, staring them all down through the black rims of her glasses.

"How I parent is my business, not yours, and my discussions with her will not be influenced by you. The issue here is that I need to know what happened before I let you all demand something from my daughter. Even apologies have scale, and I will not let anyone demand anything more than they are due."

Most of her mother's fancy language flew over Hinata's head, only knowing that her mother was probably right because she'd always been good at arguments (even though her mother had become a consultant, her grandparents were lawyers). Every single word was stated clearly with no brook for argument, and it was the Principal who caved first.

"From my understanding, your daughter punched her friend here unprovoked…"

"Is that true, Hinata?" Her mother cut in, and Hinata had shaken her head. "Then explain yourself," mother asked her, and suddenly the whole room was quiet to listen when before Hinata hadn't even managed a word sideways. Suddenly, with such a back to depend on, all her anxiety blew away. Her voice unlocked, and she started babbling – what they had been talking about, what struck her as wrong, and how she was just suddenly so angry and she didn't mean to punch anyone until she did it – and Hinata's mother had listened to her with a heavy frown that Hinata was familiar with, whenever she was thinking. Her mom took a moment to process, before translating it all.

"It seems your daughter made a discriminatory remark against Akihito-san, which offended my daughter's morals. As I will recount to my daughter on the consequences of violence, perhaps you should also have a talk with your daughter on certain matters, Mori-san. Otherwise, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Principal Sakaguchi. Hinata, apologise to your friend for punching her, and we will take our leave."

"Sorry, Mai-chan," Hinata had given her a small bow. Then Hinata's mother had caught her hand and marched her out the place before anyone else could say a word.

The drive back home was steely silent, as Hinata felt her mother's mind practically brew with things to say. Hinata waited, with hunched shoulders and her legs cross-legged on the shotgun seat, watching traffic go by. Traffic was lighter than usual, not being peak hour, and she listened to the radio talk about the recovering Japanese economy, numbers going in and out the other ear as she tried to psyche herself up for the worst.

"Hinata," her mother had finally sighed after a few more minutes. "Do you understand what you did wrong?"

"Yes," she muttered into the silence.

"Good. Violence is never the answer, remember that. We should never harm someone else physically because we don't need to. Today you fought back the only way you knew how, through your fists, because you knew something was wrong but you didn't know what to do. But that's only one type of fighting – words can fight for you too. Next time, use them."

"But what if I can't?" Hinata asked, pouting. "I'm not good with words like you are, mom."

"You try anyway," her mom replied. "Thinking you might fail isn't enough excuse to not try. If you fail, you fail. That's life. And then you pick yourself up and improve."

Hinata wrinkled her nose when she thinks of her Japanese marks and how they're consistently near C range but doesn't say anything.

"But… know that I'm proud of you for standing up for what's right, even though I don't know where you get that streak from," her mom said with a little exasperation. "Both your father and I were honour students, you know."

"I know," Hinata replied absently because she's already too aware how her report card – full of Bs – looked to her parents, before she giggles a little. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them, hiding her smile between them. "Mom, you were really cool today."

Her mother smiled.

"Was I?" She asked as she turned the air-conditioning a little higher. The smell of plastic briefly increased before dissipating, and her mother laughed. "I also stand for what I think is right, you know."

Back then, Hinata would have never imagined that years later her mother would ignore her when she stood in front of her house, Shion in hand. That she wouldn't even look at her when she stood right there and called out for her help. Because back then, her mom was her superhero. An unshakeable mountain, the rock that held her life up. Even when she yelled at her for her horrendous math homework, ban her from anime and manga during exam season, nag at her to eat enough at dinner and made Hinata yell, shout and sulk right back at her, she loved her.

But people, no matter how close, have the ability to drift apart.

Although by society's standards she was an adult in all respects, she still feels like a child. She wants to watch her mother's stiffened shoulders again as she stood behind her, even though Hinata was a full half-head taller than her mom now. She wants that sense of security when her mom looked at her, perhaps logically, a little dispassionately because that's how she was, but would always, always give her a chance.

Hinata looks at her phone and the number that's been ingrained in her memory since she was thirteen, when her mom sat her down and told her to memorise her number.

_"So you can call me no matter where when there's an emergency."_

Hinata is scared.

She's scared of who she is becoming. She's scared of this hollow in her chest that she can feel, carved out for a cold stone where her heart should be beating. Some days, she's scared that one day she won't be scared of what she is feeling, what she feels like she's transforming into, and do something irreparable.

She is waiting for her mother's birthday. Even last year, when she was mostly moved out of her house, she had called her mother on August the twenty-third and wished her a happy birthday.

If this last call didn't work out…

She doesn't want anyone else to waste their care on her anymore.

  


* * *

  


"We have to step down _that?"_ Ann points in disbelief at the mockery of a floating staircase. The ridges were barely the width of their feet, and even so each step down was half a metre down. "Oh my god, we're going to die!"

Akira looks around, and there's no other tracks. Goro's tracks start descending there, one foot on each step leading down into the pit, and Akira gives Ann's shoulders a consolatory pat.

"Only way down," he confirms, and Ann groans.

"Skull, go first!" Ann pushes Ryuji forward, and he squawks.

"What? Why me?!"

"It's n-not that I'm nervous, or anything," Ann stammers while she eyes the ominous pit that took this exact moment to blow a chilling breeze up in a hollow whistle, and they all shudder in unison. Makoto sighs, and Akira thinks she's going to volunteer to go down first when Akira steps forward.

Carefully, he steps downwards and find it surprisingly solid. Another step forward, and he's already in the shadows enough that he thinks he blends in with the wall, with the black theme of his costume.

"I will go next," Yusuke pipes up next to volunteer, voice holding an element of interest. "I sense a beautiful perspective if we go in deep enough, to look upwards and view the sky through such a perfectly circular opening! Perhaps it can be a comment upon the metaphorical frog in the well, looking upwards and thinking themselves well acquainted with the world when it is merely a matter of perspective. A limited, trapped perspective, it must be said, which may be some indication of the mind that sequesters itself within such walls…"

"Yes, yes," Makoto urges. "Go down first, Fox."

Akira hears him still mumbling himself when Yusuke does step down behind him, and Akira moves downwards another few steps. The conversation from the surface becomes more and more distant, as Ann argues a little more before compromising to go after Ryuji. Makoto brings up the rear, as Futaba has long summoned her Persona with a cheerful wink and was floating down beside Akira in it, the sparse lights coming from Necronomicon the only other source of light other than the dim red pallor that spread over everything. The blue lights shining from it's bottom help light up the next step that Akira needs to take and gives him a destination to head for.

There's a dark doorway a third down, just like what Futaba had said at the very entrance. Where Goro was said to be waiting.

"How much longer, Joker?" He hears Ann ask when another blast of chilled air ruffles his coat enough to blow his lapels to touch his face. If he's feeling the chill, then he's sure Ann is absolutely freezing, despite them being relatively sturdier in the Metaverse.

"Another fifteen steps," he calls back to Yusuke, who relays it backwards.

They reach it soon enough, corridors of metal and ice where, with his Second Sight, he could see Shadows standing like sentinels in the corners of rooms and bridging corridors. Their eyes glow slightly red within their bone masks to show that they aren't entirely dead.

Just still.

"I'll initiate battles. There are Shadows in the darkness," Akira directs the rest of the Thieves when they join him. Since the whole Palace seemed to be themed around the cold, the members that would be most effective would be… "Skull, Panther, Queen, with me. Yusuke, back us up when necessary and check if there's any Shadows who respawn behind us when we move on."

"Okay, Joker," Ann nods, while Ryuji beats his pole against his leg and stands next to him without a word. Makoto finishes their battle-ready party by standing next to Ann, while Yusuke brings the rear.

Futaba unsummons Necronomicon and lands in front of them. She cocks her head to the side, and points.

"Head that way, guys! That's where I'm reading where a huge energy source is coming from."

Akira nods and they begin.

There are remnants of other fights – where Goro had presumably already fought through before, only for the Shadows to respawn. Flashes of melted ice that's perfectly circular, without scorch marks, or broken frost on walls and doors that have already been cracked open.

"Who is this Palace for, anyway?" Ryuji asks when they're halfway to where Goro is presumably waiting. They've just entered a middle area that opened into a vast open space, a vaulted room of spiralling ice and dark metal where they'd spotted a frozen chest at the very tip of a metal spire. In the process of figuring out how to acquire it they stumbled into a few room to the side with a small photo book.

A girl, laughing as she swung in between her mother and father, her feet off the floor. Dark glossy hair, expression bright. The other photos they found continued in the same theme. An unfamiliar girl, and pictures of a happy childhood.

"This is the sort of time where I miss Morgana," Ann sighs. "He'd have explained to us a little at least. We know the code word is Hell, and with all these photos… It's probably the girl, right?"

"It's kind of frightening if this Palace came from a little girl," Makoto muses as she takes in her surroundings with sharp eyes. "Palaces are how Palace Rulers have distorted the world around them, right? Kaneshiro saw the world as his personal bank, while you've told me Kamoshida saw himself as the ruler of Shujin. Either this Palace Ruler thinks of themselves as the Devil, ruling over the Hell that they think society is, or… it may be that we are facing someone extremely different from the Palaces we've seen before."

"Huh? What're you thinkin', Queen?" Ryuji cocks his head back to listen to Makoto, and Makoto gestures.

"There are absolutely no cognitions of people around. The Shadows that we've faced are blank-faced wraiths that don't speak or interact, or even move. They just stand in their corners, attacking anyone who enters their range. Did you notice the spires outside that blocked this pit from the rest of society, with those windows plastered with eyes? They're all signs that our Palace Ruler might be extremely isolated or may even feel victimised by the world around them."

"I've read from my mom's notes that distortions of the heart aren't always from evil people," Futaba informs them, walking side by side. "Distortions are just someone's strong, twisted view of the world around them. You guys have been targeting criminals so it might seem that way, but there are a lot of distorted ways that a person can see the world, you know!"

"To think of the world as Hell… Is not something a happy person does," Yusuke says in a thoughtful murmur. "I believe all of us, in some capacity, understand what type of mindset which may lead to labelling the world as only a place of retribution and suffering."

"Wait, so you guys are sayin' this Palace isn't from a bad guy?" Ryuji asks just as Akira hops down from the metal spire with a new weapon in his hand, tossing it to Makoto.

"Does she feel all alone?" Ann says, a little sadly, as she looks down at the photograph they collected, tracing the features of the little girl's smile, before tucking it away to go back into battle formation when Akira waves them forward. Frost crunches underneath their shoes as they head towards the next corridor. They're close - they can all see the faint traces of someone else's footsteps leading further onwards.

"Maybe GA wants to save this person, like how he saved me," Futaba murmurs sadly as she calls Necronomicon and focuses, expanding her vision and senses until she feels past the walls, the next few corridors and Shadows, the safe room tucked into a corner, and there.

A dark, blazing ball of energy standing still in the middle of a large room.

"We're nearly there guys! I sense a safe room nearby, so let's go there first before heading out!"

"Alright, we're gonna get our answers from the Black Mask anyway, so let's get goin'!" Ryuji says as Akira peers into the next corridor and nods to them to indicate it's safe. They proceed through traps that have already been deactivated, going through rooms that tell a story of this girl growing up.

Not being able to meet the expectations of her parents and trying to find validation somewhere else. Getting estranged, finding new friends who were so free, so sure of themselves.

They walk through this stranger's life until they enter a room holding a glowing golden frame at the other end. The only warm light they've seen so far holds a completed picture of a happy child, the doorway behind it cracked open. There're the remnants of a fight from broken frost and melted circles, and straight in middle of the remnants is the Black Mask, staring at the golden frame lost in thought.

He turns the moment he hears their footsteps behind him.

"You've proved yourselves with Kaneshiro's Change of Heart," GA starts to say from across the room, a dark shadow backlit from the golden glow from just behind him. Although everyone is listening no-one stops Futaba when she elbows everyone out of the way and marches determinedly towards the other boy.

Futaba shoves her goggles off her face, and Goro pauses when he looks at the girl who has stopped in front of him, looking up and down Morrigan's costume.

Then Futaba throws her arms around him, arms perfectly avoiding any dangerous looking spikes.

Akira watches as Goro visibly stiffens underneath her hug. In response, Futaba only tightens her arms.

"GA, you know, I'm going to punch you in a minute for being such a big, stubborn bastard that didn't leave me any way to contact you because you could have definitely trusted me with all your secrety secrets and I would have been helpful even if I didn't have a Persona or enter the Metaverse because hello, do you know how much a master hacker can do in a society like ours? But right now I just want to say something that I've wanted to say for two years, okay? So listen to me!" Futaba demands, not turning to face Goro as she continued to speak rapidly.

"…I'm listening," Goro responds, and Akira notices that he's still not making a move to reciprocate the hug.

"Thank you, you big stupid idiot," Futaba mutters, fingers catching on little catches on the back of his armour. "You arranged for Sojiro to pick me up, you made it so that Youji can't ever touch mom's stuff. I heard from Aegis what you did for mom, and you were the one who kept me company and fed me when you had a perfect cover going on, you know? No-one knew who you were, or how you were entering the Metaverse, but the only times we ever caught a glimpse of you was when you were sticking out your neck for someone else like me, or mom, or that Minato guy, and we, we want to trust you, I trust you, GA, and I never got to say thank you. You didn't let me say it, thank you, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, because that's the thing about being socially awkward is that all the friends that you make are really important, and you've made me chase you for two years! Two, whole, years!"

Futaba reels backwards and punches him then, one big punch for each word, her thumb tucked into her fist.

Goro doesn't try to avoid it. He takes it without a flinch, his face an unreadable mask as he stared down at Futaba's head of orange hair, who immediately cursed as she flailed her hand around.

"Owww, that hurt. Hey, react dammit!"

"That hurt." Goro replies flatly, before he reaches out with his face under the mask still expressionless and fixes Futaba's fist. Thumb, outside.

This time, it's Futaba's expression that crumbles a little from the fierce one she had been fronting all along. She stares at her fist for a moment, eyes distant behind her glasses, before her hands dart forward when GA's clawed hands start to retract.

"I'm never going to let you disappear on me again," Futaba says, eyes burning in determination.

There's confusion in Goro's voice when he replies, with that achingly familiar tilt of the head.

(Goro had reacted the same way when Akira had told him he cared with that shard of disbelief, and Akira had wanted to tell him again, and again, and again, until the other boy understood.)

"We only knew each other for a few months, at most," Goro replies, a statement that is half a question, and Futaba frowns. It's an obstinate tilt that Akira is increasingly becoming more familiar with as he grows her Confidant. It's a clash between Futaba's sheer stubbornness, and Goro's tendency to dismiss other's care for him as temporary.

Futaba had told him, after all, about how Goro – a phantom from her disappeared mother's mysterious chat – had kept her company. Took responsibility of her when no-one else would. Never judged her when she was too scared to reach out to Sojiro, quietly sat next to her whenever she got stuck in her head. Rescued her when she thought she would be locked in a basement forever, eating food from a dog bowl without blankets and a mattress. How Futaba herself sometimes wondered, curled up in her chair in quiet 2 AM hours, if this chase was worth it, before being reminded, each time, that if nothing else she wanted the chance to thank him. Help him back from this conspiracy that has also hurt her mother. Get to know him better, if he hadn't really changed into an incomprehensible criminal comatising people left and right.

This time, Futaba aims for a softer spot in the armour with her fist done right.

"If you don't get it, then you'll just have to join the Phantom Thieves!" She says. "And reveal your true identity, while we're at it!"

Futaba reaches up for Goro's mask, and he doesn't do anything to stop it when she pushes it off his face.

Then she promptly squints.

"Hey, your face looks familiar."

Futaba's reaction is swallowed by, surprisingly, Makoto's.

 _"Goro Akechi?!"_ She exclaims loudly, covering up Ann and Ryuji's noises of surprise. Yusuke stays silent, just like himself, as Goro's eyes flicker upwards in response to Makoto's shout, the golden light behind him bringing the edges of his hair in stark, detailed shadow.

"Yes, I am Goro Akechi," Goro confirms, and Futaba obviously connects the dots together.

"Wait, wait, wait. You mean GA was just your _initials all this time?"_

"Your mother even commented on how boring my naming sense was," Goro replies, his eyes returning to Futaba's fingers cinched tightly to his own with that unreadable expression on his face. "I would have guessed you went through our chat before."

"I did, but I went full-on when my mom asked for privacy, you know! The chats auto-delete after a set period of time, and, and when I tried to recover what I could I never saw you guys mention each other's _names!"_

"Wait a minute, if you're the guy comatising people then why're you on our case on TV all the time?" Ryuji cuts in. "You've been callin' us criminals since day one!"

"Other than the fact that nothing I say is wrong," Goro replies as he finally pulls his hands away from Futaba, twisting his fingers so they wouldn't hurt her. "I have had a long time living the reality of what the world would be like if someone has the ability to go into the Metaverse with harmful intentions. Can't you see the dangers of what you're doing merely through the existence of those comatose patients?"

"You're the one who first asked for Kaneshiro's hit? The Black Mask, the one creating the coma incidents… You're leading my sister on," Makoto says, voice hard. Her hands are in fists, and Goro's eyes turn towards her. "She trusts you, and you've been the cause of it all along?!"

"In a sense, I am leading Sae-san on," Goro doesn't deny it in his reply. There's a steady measure in how he's speaking, as if he'd prepared for this moment for a long time. "However, I am also trying my best to keep her safe from harm. She's been thrown into an investigative unit filled with members from the Conspiracy to be a lamb to slaughter. There are people watching her that… aren't predisposed to understanding people like your sister, who is still trying her best to enact justice."

"You're in charge of Shiho," Ann gasps. "D-does that mean she's in danger? You're part of a super-secret conspiracy, right?"

Goro's face goes a tinge wry then.

"Believe it or not, I am capable of having friends, Takamaki-san. You don't need to worry about Suzui-san."

"Wait a second, I watched your stupid face so many times when I was eating breakfast!" Futaba starts, volume levels starting to rise ominously before she suddenly interrupts herself. There's a funny moment then, when Goro and Futaba simultaneously look towards the door beyond the golden frame that had been cracked open before. Moments later, a familiar figure bounds through the door.

"Hey, Crow. Down the stairs to the next level there's… Oh." Morgana stares at all of them. His ears immediately flatten against his head. "You guys are already here, huh?"

"I'll wait a little past the door while you guys sort it out," Goro says, tilting his mask back over his face.

"I will accompany you… Crow?" Yusuke volunteers when he notices that Futaba looked torn following him and staying for Morgana. The three original Thieves are waiting while Makoto's frowning fiercely at the floor, fists clenched, and Yusuke doesn't try to pry as to why their new, usually calm and collected member was reacting like this when realising that the Black Mask they have been chasing was actually a person they knew all along. "It is good to see you again, Mona."

"Thanks, Fox," Morgana mutters as he passes. "Um. Hello, guys. I was thinking this whole time, and before you guys say anything, I just wanted to say... I'm sorry."

Akechi hears the others clamour about seeing Morgana again before he slips past the doorway and looks down the stairs where he had told the cat to scout. The first floor had held a theme of innocence and childhood, culminating in a Shadow of her previous manager, who he had killed before he could finish his speech about what women should be doing when they were still young and 'ignorant about the ways of the world.' Then, after finishing a quick picture puzzle that was a mere replica of a photograph from one of the rooms they'd explored on this floor, the door had opened to the next one.

Hinata's Shadow had disappeared then, and Akechi had proceeded to wait.

"I'm sure you can give us a more in-depth explanation at a more opportune time," Yusuke says as walks through the door and slides it gently closed. "I would, for one, like to learn about this Conspiracy that Futaba has been hinting about since we first met her, or even perhaps who this Palace belongs to."

Akechi doesn't bother replying, and Yusuke seems to accept that with no complaint. Even with the door closed, the both of them can still hear the clamour inside. Ryuji is shouting something – but it doesn't sound too hostile, just vaguely like complaints, while Morgana's yowling right back. There's laughter that sounds like Ann, and it's sooner than expected when Akira opens the door and pops his head through to give them a small smile.

"Mona mentioned you have a request for us."

Through the doorway, beyond Akira is a happy scene of reconciliation. Not that he'd expected anything less, with Ryuji Sakamoto's character. As much as he had flaws, Ryuji was a loyal friend who had been more than willing to advance any cause for the sake of the Phantom Thieves and his friends

"It's alright already, you dumb cat," Ryuji is grinning. "I don't want to apologise again too, y'know."

"Stupid Ryuji!" Morgana swipes at him without heat from Futaba's arms. It seems the drama with the Phantom Thieves is over for now.

Perfect then, to focus on what he's actually here for.

The dark, winding staircase in front of him billows with cold.

"My request is this," Akechi says as he stands in front of them all, after lining all the Thieves up. "Before August the twenty-third, change this Palace Ruler's Heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To start off, this made me laugh when I saw it! Thank you this is amazing, Aishin! Yes, this is exactly what happened last chapter when Morgana's spilling beans left and right and Akechi being like, hmm, yes. Akechi has really selective hearing when it comes to Akira, you know :3. (To Akechi's defence, I am one of those people who sees everything platonically until someone shoves it in my face at least five times so like, Akira, gambatte-)  
> https://bitteraishin.tumblr.com/post/632693058977333248/
> 
> Today's chapter is as short as the first 10 chapters of this fic *cough* yeah, deadlines hit real hard the closer to the end of the year, and I tried but I'm only like two paragraphs into the Palace itself and I was like HAHA ok I'll finish the whole of Hinata's Palace in one go next week then! Just in time for chapter 40. (I'm sorry though) Thank you for all your support and nice comments guys, they give me life while i wither for the sake of that capitalistic grind. You guys are so encouraging that it makes me want to try my best every week! *fist pump*
> 
> (answering a q about lgbtqi+ stuff in the fic... I thought about it before? I've currently written a relationship where Akira is pretty much a-ok with being attracted to Goro because he gives no craps about society's judgement, and Goro really only has one person who'd he think about that stuff with, but he's just not thinking it right now because he's never put romance on the table for himself :(. There's a lot of potential to explore sexuality, and I don't deny there are loaded issues but love is love is love and in this fic, I probably just wanna explore romance. Akira sees home in Goro, and Goro definitely sees a lot of things in Akira and I want to explore that hehe. Of what it means to love and be loved and why something like love exists, what is love, in the end? Cos I wonder, sometimes, when I read/watch stuff, what romance truly means. Love is one of the most varied mixture of other emotions and everyone's romantic relationships are different because everyone brings different elements to the table but everyone just calls those emotions under this large umbrella called 'love' and it's bewildering and fascinating all at once- and I'll stop lol i rant too much)
> 
> Sorry for the typos, I'll hopefully see you guys next week! Nov and Dec are blurp, so warnings in advance that I may update Sun/Mon/Tue/or even Wed until the end of the year and my schedule settles D: I'll edit throughout the week!


	40. Chapter 40

One father's day in primary school, his class was given a task to write a letter to their father. Glitter and paints were provided, coloured crayons, pencils, and even pens. Akechi selected a black pencil and tried to start while all the children around him started reaching out for glue, fighting over their favourite colour.

He started and then stopped.

Akechi tapped his pencil against the paper, still blank. What is there to write to a stranger?

In the end, the letter he folded and gave his teacher held two simple sentences to the shadow of a possibility he saw in every family he passed. The warm figure that his mother spoke of sometimes when she brushed his hair, of a father who loved him, of course, just like how he loved her.

In the end, all he could manage was this.

_Dear Father,_

_Mom said you loved us so you should come back. Mom is waiting for you every day._

_From your son,_

_Goro Akechi._

  


* * *

  


"For real? She's this way just 'cos she's a single mother?!"

Ryuji Sakamoto shouts that with a vein of frustration and anger, hand gripping his staff with an audible creak from his yellow gloves. The outburst from Ryuji Sakamoto may perhaps be the most interesting one out of the lot. He had expected after he had explained Hinata's situation as sympathetically as he could, that he would win over most of the Phantom Thieves. Akira and Futaba were counted in without question. Akira had always been won over by a sob story, while Futaba's motivations had always been inherently selfish. Being her goal, as inexplicable as it may seem, works in his favour as he'd predicted that she would most likely follow him even if his motivations were far more dubious.

Ann Takamaki had listened to the whole story with her own brand of sadness and outrage. She contributed to the conversation with what he considers her usual fare, with shouts of 'that's unfair!' and 'how could they?', but otherwise had the normal emotional range of a stranger who is invested and wants to help. Yusuke Kitagawa had the same valence – he wanted to help because he could. But that had always been Fox's way – always a little emotionally distanced from their targets, passion instead on the concept of helping those who couldn't be saved.

The feelings of good Samaritans weren't to be dismissed. Entire charities have run on less.

He had expected Ryuji Sakamoto and Makoto Niijima to be in the same boat as the others.

Instead, Ryuji seemed genuinely upset as Akechi watches him glare at the floor. His outburst only continues.

"That's so shitty! The father walked off, she got kicked out of her house, she was bullied at work, and after you checked on her she had a Palace?! That sucks!" Ryuji scowls as he glares at the stark metal walls around them with renewed eyes. "Let's go save her right now!"

"Whoa, you're really fired up, Skull," Ann says with surprise, and Ryuji huffs.

"Of course I am! This unfair, shitty situation—"

Ryuji grits his teeth and cuts himself off, and it only takes a few seconds before Ann's eyes widen in realisation, and then gentle in understanding. She gives Ryuji a supportive bump on the shoulder when she turns back around to face Akechi standing in front of all of them.

"Yeah, I agree with Skull. Crow, you have my support as well."

When Akira looks towards Makoto expectantly, everyone else follows the motion. Makoto stands there, red eyes behind her mask narrowed in thought.

"Everyone has agreed now except you, Queen," Morgana says. "What're you thinking?"

"I agree that Osumi-san should be saved. My main question is you, Crow. Why are you here? Although this may sound callous," Makoto continues, her voice sharp as she unfurls her logic with precision, "this woman's situation isn't uncommon. I know enough of your work to know that you must happen upon many cases such as this. And also, if nothing else, I know you are intelligent. Futaba painted you in a dangerous situation, yet you are risking your cover and identity on Osumi-san. I'm wondering if there's more that you aren't telling us."

Akechi's pleasant mask stretches across his face.

He did neglect that detail in his explanation, aiming instead to highlight the more tear-jerking aspects of Hinata's situation. He had already won over Akira, Futaba and Yusuke after all, and usually when Akira decided on something everyone else followed one way or the other.

"Oh? Is the detail of how I found Osumi-san's Palace more important than saving her right now?"

"Yes, it is," Makoto says firmly. "Even if you're personally not a bad person, it's been established that you are at least working within an organisation actively trying to harm society. I don't doubt Osumi-san is suffering, and I do want to help. But I can't agree to help until I know this won't lead to regrets, for any of us. The time for secrecy is over, _Crow_. The Phantom Thieves won't act until there's a unanimous vote, and I won't agree until you truly view all of the Phantom Thieves as partners and share what you know."

Queen had definitely always been one of the most resistant towards him even in his previous life, but this resistance now, without any blackmail or guillotine hanging over their heads… Akechi's quickly turns his thoughtful smirk into something kinder.

How curious.

Akira's eyes are boring holes into the side of his face, and Futaba has been sticking close since the time he'd stepped back into the room. Both stay silent however, and Akechi doesn't take any offence. Akira had always guided the Thieves and never forced, while Futaba had always tried her best to follow the Thieves' rules.

"I don't deny that you have a point," Akechi replies, tone benign as he turns around. Morrigan's mantle is warm around his shoulders as he looks down past the golden frame and down the staircase. "Due to my work as a detective, I have seen many cases such as these. Matters such as this, so filled with injustice, is par on course in a society like ours. Logically, there should be thousands and thousands of people with Palaces just like Osumi-san's. Would it make sense if I said that Osumi-san is a direct victim of the Conspiracy?"

"There are at least sixteen people in the mysterious coma cases," Makoto immediately refutes, hand on her hip, "and who knows how many weren't caught by public attention? With how big the scale of your Conspiracy is, wouldn't there be countless victims every day? Why specifically Osumi-san?"

"…Fine, have it your way," Akechi replies finally. Makoto's face is stubborn, her elegant features drawn tight into a surprisingly nostalgic look of defiance. Akechi has gone to enough negotiations before to know that Makoto has found her foot-hold and won't budge against anything that she doesn't deem a sufficient answer. They've wasted enough time already. "The truth is personal, and will complicate some issues that I didn't deem relevant."

"We'll be infiltrating the inner-depths of her psyche on your behalf," Makoto says firmly before anyone else could say a word. "Nothing is irrelevant."

Truth and trust is the foundation of all Arcana, and Akechi glances over the whole group.

"…I don't know how many of you know my family circumstances," Akechi says, flashing them all a kind smile, giving Futaba a raised eyebrow from how she'd been slowly sneaking closer to him as the conversation continued. "But I will cut a long story short. I am publicly listed as an orphan with both parents deceased, but that is a lie. My father who walked out on us is still alive, has become a powerful personage, and still prefers taking young women to bed and abandoning them for his amusement."

"W-wait, are you implying?" Makoto asks, her shock palpable in her voice.

Makoto Niijima had always been naïve, a distinct contrast to her sister's cynicism. For the truth she was seeking to derail her so easily… Akechi remembers now, a little, why he had looked down on the Phantom Thieves enough to overlook their master plan. Even their 'Master Strategist' had been so _simple._ Theoretical to the bone.

…Enough of that. As long as it worked in his favour, who was he to complain?

"So that kid you said this Palace Ruler has is your brother?!" Futaba exclaims, having finally edged her way to stand right beside him, and Akechi looks at her.

"Half-sibling, to be accurate," he says to Futaba, tone gaining a touch of irony. He looks at her eyes, the exact shade as Shido's, and looks away. He continues with a small laugh. "Who knows how many other siblings I have out there with a father like mine?"

"So that's why you want to save her so badly that you're asking us," Ann says, voice sympathetic. "With a Palace like this… I can see why."

Empathy. What a useful emotion. Akechi adopts an air of sadness in response, tilting his body towards the more emotionally swayed Thieves. "I may have, as Queen said, seen many cases similar to this, which I could do nothing to help. However, I know first-hand how my father can destroy lives, and I only wish for this half-brother of mine to grow up with a happier childhood than mine. I understand how in some aspects it may be selfish to only save Osumi-san," Akechi continues, before he's interrupted by Ryuji, who had been mired in his thoughts the whole time. Ryuji looks up now, frown heavy on his face.

"Shut up," Ryuji cuts in, shoulders tense. "There's nothin' selfish 'bout what you're doin'."

"…Queen?" Morgana asks with his ears flattened on his head.

Makoto sighs before she gives in.

"I understand. Your purpose is… as noble as expected. As long as you aren't leading us into a trap, I have no objections."

A tense silence follows as the frown on Makoto's face has hardly alleviated. Futaba starts to shrink back a little, shoulders going up to her ears until someone claps.

"Then let's go!" Ann says with more cheer than necessary, injecting the air with some of her enthusiasm. "The faster we get this done, the faster Osumi-san can feel better, right?" She turns to Akira for confirmation and Akechi does the same, only to see Akira's watching him with an inquisitive tilt of the head.

Then Akira's eyes gleam. There's barely a sliver of a smirk before Akira turns to face the stairs down.

"Crow, Panther, Mona, with me. Oracle, scan the next level as far as you can. Queen, lead the backup. Skull, Fox, you know what to do. Assist as you see fit."

"Yes, Joker!" Most of the team chorus back as Akira peers down the pitch-black stairs.

"Mona, report."

"The stairs stretch quite a ways down, Joker," Morgana replies immediately. "I made sure to be super careful just in case there were any of those sentry-like Shadows, but there weren't any that ambushed me. When I reached the very bottom of the stairs, it was kind of surprising, but the floor was covered with water. Maybe an inch-deep?"

Akira cocks his head to the side in thought at that, and Futaba pipes up.

"Joker, we're deep enough that I can feel out the shape of the Palace a little more! The level under us is a bit smaller than the labyrinth we just went through… Maybe this Palace is actually more cone-shaped the deeper we go in?"

Akira nods sharply at them both before his eyes glance at Akechi's.

"Let's see what you're made of, Crow."

Akechi laughs at the competitive taunt hidden in Akira's words.

"Don't you remember our last encounter in the Metaverse? I'm sure I will surpass every single one of your expectations," Akechi replies, and Akira wordlessly turns around and steps into the darkness.

Akechi doesn't miss the slight smirk on his face.

"Let's go."

  


* * *

  


It's a strangely familiar motion to follow Akira's steady back, his steps silent and precise as he confidently treads into the unknown. It's a strange feeling of security that Akechi hadn't known how to deal with, the first time. Resentment, perhaps, that Akira had such a pack of friends to fall back upon and all _he_ had was Shido's dark eyes roaming over a report, his praise precious by its scarcity.

The SIU Director had inadvertently given him a heads up on Shido's state the other day, when he was on his phone to listen to a nervous man's rants about Kobayakawa's inefficiencies.

Shido must be dealing with the sudden loss of Kaneshiro badly, just like last time. Kaneshiro had been becoming too cocky anyway, but Shido had wanted him cut off on his own terms.

Now all he had to do was to keep an eye out for Shido contacting the IT company under his influence. And if possible, ask Fusa as well. Fusa had cut all contact after that short text that evening, and Akechi clamps down on that thought and turns it outwards.

It's dark as they head down, the frost from the first level giving away to frigid, humid air.

But that is what Akechi expected in the first place.

Everything in a Palace is usually symbolic in some way. He has watched Palaces crumble and fall, transform and change, develop and evolve in his tenure with Shido. He's watched grandiose Palaces fuelled by narcissism fracture into dusty, empty chasms when Shido ruined their lives. He's watched hearts build labyrinths out of nothing, literal mountains out of a molehill of an insecurity, and Hinata's Palace in that respect is nothing special. The general theme is cavernous, dark, empty and silent. Places which could have warmth are abandoned by people who may have once taken residence, and even this stairway they are going down is claustrophobic and steep.

"It's kind of funny," Ann says as they finally finish walking down the stairs and step onto the second floor with a splash. Morgana had been right – the whole level was sunk an inch deep in frigid water. "Like, when you imagine Hell, I usually imagine something hot."

She takes one foot out of the water and wiggles it, looking around the place in fascination. Somewhere behind, in the reserve parts of the Phantom Thieves, Morgana has climbed onto Yusuke's shoulder with a look of distaste at all the water, and Yusuke bears that without complaint.

"That's not true, Panther," Makoto replies as they carefully slosh through rooms that were much more open than before. The ceiling is high above their heads, leading to the echoing splashes of their movements a constant whisper in their ears as Akira spearheaded their infiltration. "Hell is generally just seen a place that people suffer for their sins. I've heard of Christian depictions of Hell having a layer dedicated to freezing sinners by divine punishment, and I know Buddhism has both the Hot and Cold Narakas for people to live out their karma."

"Oh, I see!" Ann remarks with a smile. "You always know so much, Queen."

"Hinata Osumi has a background in Buddhism and Shintoism," Akechi informs them from the front, following Joker's precise footsteps as he saw something everyone else didn't in the runes on the floor. They lit up and faded with each step they took, wavering forms through black water before dimming again, and sure enough, the door at the end of the corridor opened. Joker headed through it without hesitation, melting behind the door with a fluidity that Akechi had only achieved a year in, in his previous life, before he waved them forward.

Their conversation continued after a fight with another group of Shadows standing still at the end of the corridor, blocking their way.

"Buddhism and Shintoism… So if this is based upon one of the cold Narakas, then does Osumi-san see herself as living here because she's atoning for karma? But what bad things has she done?" Makoto muses to herself just as they open another door. This one looks even more reminiscent of a prison, the water slightly deeper as water sloshes against their ankles.

In front of them is a large Shadow dressed in formal black, a whip in his hand as he paced in front of a golden tablet. It's one of the only mobile Shadows they've seen in this dead, still place, and Akira shushes them before assessing their condition.

In the end, it's Akechi, Makoto and Ryuji who stands with Akira to face the Shadow who turns its masked face to them. The mask is painted with an exaggerated scowl, wearing a suit as no other Shadow had been. Some sort of middle-ranking management, perhaps, and the Shadow stands burly and strong.

"Who are you all to intrude upon this place?"

"Who're you?" Ryuji called up, voice more irritated than usual when he swings his pole experimentally, already warming up.

"Who I am…" The Shadow says as it steps forward threateningly, trailing off. Akechi observes Akira, as he'd always tended to do in Palaces. There's some part of him that's always wondered whether Joker gets it when everyone else in his party is spouting their comments and opinions.

Akechi thinks he does, in Akira's solemn slant of his mouth, in how he adjusts his gloves in preparation.

"Osumi-san's father," Akechi cuts in, eyes glancing away from Akira to look at the Shadow. He'd identified him first glance. "He wears the same suit in every single one of Osumi-san's recollections of her family."

"You're right," Morgana replies, eyes narrowed. "Why's her father standing guard over this thing? I sense that the golden tablet is important, Joker! We have to get it!"

Even before Morgana's words Akira's already in a fighting stance, and everyone follows suit as the Shadow billows and transforms. "I am no father of a whore! That impure little shit, how dare she come back with some bastard in tow? Doesn't she ever think about our reputation? You interlopers have insulted me while trespassing where you are not welcome! Begone!"

As much as the Shadow talked big, it wasn't that difficult of a fight. Akechi has already noted that Akira is surprisingly strong in this timeline (had he been so last time? Akechi doesn't have a frame of reference, he joined the Thieves so late last time around–) as he one-shot kills all the minions that the Shadow summons to support him, leading Ryuji, Makoto and Akechi to take turns hitting the Shadow.

When it's his turn he shouts _"God's Hand!"_ , and the warped Shadow of her father disintegrates in one surprised growl.

"Holy cow, you're still as strong as ever, huh?" Ryuji whistles, his eyes still trained on where the Shadow had melted with distaste. Makoto looks over the whole group and saw that no-one needed healing before looking at Akechi with a complicated look.

"I heard tales of just how strong you were from the others, but…"

"A natural consequence from traversing the Metaverse for so much longer than you all," Akechi dismisses. "I'm sure you all will catch up to me soon. Instead, is anyone going to examine that?"

Futaba has already crept forward with Morgana in her arms. They're muttering something to one another, as Futaba bends down to let Morgana pick the golden tablet up.

"It looks like this is a key to unlock some kind of mechanism," Morgana says finally as he shows them all the patterns on the back of the golden tablet. "Let's just hold onto it for now, I'm sure it'll come in handy soon."

The corridors are less complex than the level above, funnelling them towards the left and then generally straight. They continue their way down, going through Akira's usual meticulous exploration, discovering chests and treasures that Akechi wouldn't have bothered with if he were alone. They follow the wet path until it opens up into a large circular room, columns of dark stone rising to support a ceiling vaulting so far up it lay unseen in the dark. There's a small strand of red moonlight shining down to light an altar in the middle, with three empty spaces that look like perfect matches for the golden tablet glowing in their hands. After quickly visiting the Safe Room nearby, it seems pretty obvious to walk forward towards it.

However, the moment they try Akira waves them in line and takes specific steps forward, jumping and leaping in certain patterns with his face set in a mask of deep concentration.

The Thieves all follow Akira's leadership without question, Akechi notices, despite how Futaba and Makoto are relatively new to the Thieves. The Thieves truly were like puzzle pieces, slotting into place like something preordained.

They give suggestions, now and then, Makoto noting that some of the tiles on the floor, although hard to spot underneath the water, were raised. Akechi points out they had been going anti-clockwise before switching direction after a 180 degrees rotation when Akira pauses a little, tilting his head. When they get closer, Yusuke asks for a copy of one of the papers they found on the first floor, looking at the drawing of an ox head and a horse's face and hands it to Akira, saying that there 'seems to be some correlation!' as he points to similar carvings on the altar.

This Palace seems to be more engaged in obstruction puzzles than active trickery, so Akechi is glad to take a step back and observe something he'd only had the chance to see once before. Joker, living in the moment. Akira barely hides a smug smirk when he steps hard one part of the puzzle, having directed Yusuke and Makoto to stand on another two spots, and the whole area lights up into a clear path towards the middle.

The altar is much larger in size than expected. After flicking off a switch and feeling the floor underneath them shift, it's with solemnity that Ryuji hands over the golden tablet to Akira for him to slot it in.

It fits into the first slot with a solid clunk, and the air above them shimmers.

Oh, Akechi thinks with a prickle in the back of his mind, suddenly aware of all the Thieves standing around him watching what he is seeing.

It's familiar.

It's a scene, from the point of view of Hinata as she looks at the social services centre at Nagatacho. It's wavery, not replicated exactly in detail, but the point of view looks past the doors of the service centre right into it. The people inside all looked like the results of stories that parents would use to warn their children, stories her mom would wave at her when she moaned and groaned and wanted to watch anime instead of finishing her essay. _"Study hard now, so you don't become like that homeless man who sits near your school, you hear me? Do you want to be like that?"_

The Hinata on the screen shakes, and there are whispers of her thoughts coming through, as she looks at this centre, then down at Shion, and looks into herself to see the very fragile, shattering remains of her pride and shame at seeking help like this.

Hinata had known, of course, about stories of struggle. There had been a homeless man who lived underneath the corner of a closed-down convenience store on the way to her school, beard dragging against his chest and eyes set in deep hollows in his face. She'd sympathised some days, callously wondered what he did wrong on others. She'd ignore him most days, and sometimes gave him small change when she had some, all with the distance of someone who had absolute confidence that she was _different,_ she'd never fall that far. It was a superiority she never realised she had that was being shaken, and something in her dies at the thought of getting the dole instead of depending on her relatively rich parents who could house her for years and years (her father, turning away) and it's just, it's not _fair_ —

A voice cuts through the darkness.

It's his own.

"…Do you wish to talk about it?" Says the phantom on the screen, and the view jerks to the right. He sees himself in stark detail, small concern in his brows, gentle expression carefully shaped. He looks… surprisingly young in Hinata's eyes. Softer in the cheeks, smile kinder than he's ever seen it. Hinata focuses especially on Akechi's eyes – _the boy,_ the thoughts whisper around them, _the only person who ever asked her like it was an option, who never gave up on her why she'll figure it out later_ – and the wavery quality of the memory suddenly solidifies. As if her resolve has strengthened, just by having this small question of support, and the memory flickers briefly to Shion still hiccupping, before back to Akechi.

"No," Hinata replies in the memory. "Thank you for your concern and help, but I can handle this myself. We both know that my issue," and here there's a stab of pain, a brief flicker of a childhood of being told she was better, she wasn't as dirty as 'them', as desperate as 'them', of her mother's disdain for the homeless, of her father scoffing at those stupid girls who got themselves knocked up, and Hinata swallows tears because what she needed now was strength. "Is stupid when looking at my situation as a whole."

Then Hinata looks back at the people inside the service centre. So normal, so miserable.

There was no difference between her and them, before or after Shion. They were all the same. This wasn't her dream when she was younger, when she left school, heck, even a year ago when she was still partying with the girls. No-one dreams of being homeless as a child, to be poor and stuck on government support, to be seen and glanced away from, to work in jobs with no future just because there are things more important now than childhood's glitter—

Shion, the first moment he was born, the first moment she held him and found that all her fears of hating him were untrue because she loved, loved, _loved._

Shion's comfort and life is more important than something as petty as her pride, and Hinata sucks it up, makes her shoulders straight and proud, and walks inside.

The memory fades and the Phantom Thieves are silent, eyes wide. They heard the thoughts reverberate through their bones too, perhaps. They saw Akechi, smile polite and fake and perhaps his sincere sympathy, and Akechi's hands involuntarily curl into fists.

"It seems like you've been helping her for a long time, Akechi-kun," Yusuke observes. "You didn't mention this before."

"Didn't I?" Akechi replies a beat late, a hand coming up to make sure Morrigan's mask was still on his face. He avoids all their gazes and diverts their attention to point a finger forward. There's a new doorway that had appeared the moment the memory had finished playing. "It seems our way forward has appeared. Let us proceed."

It seems they have found their rhythm with Hinata's Palace. The exploration this time involved more heights, the team slinging over dangerous pits and assisted each other when they ventured deep enough into this section of the corridors that the water under their feet turned to ice, making their steps slippery and dangerous.

The Shadow guarding the next golden tablet wears a pencil skirt and exaggerated glasses. Hinata's Mother doesn't even acknowledge she has a daughter, averts her eyes uncomfortably when they name Hinata to her and politely asks them to leave. When they don't, she transforms.

She is weak to Bless. As Akechi didn't wish to reveal Robin just yet, Akira was the one tasked with knocking it down, with Ryuji and Akechi doing the rest of the damage through physical skills, Makoto finishing it off with a _'Freila!'_. Tablet in hand, they trek the way back.

"How could a mother treat their daughter like that," Ryuji growls when they take a small break in a Safe Room, and his voice echoes so loudly all the members of the Thieves can hear Akira and Ryuji's personal exchange. They all immediately pretend to be doing other things – Futaba types a little quicker on her laptop, Ann picking non-existent threads on her sleeve with uncanny interest from her seat on the table.

When Akechi is approached, he looks at Akira's dark eyes behind his mask – Joker's mask, full of wild rage and infinite empathy that had confused Akechi, once – and shakes his head.

"Not right now, Joker. Time is of the essence. We need to get going."

Akira accepts that with a small nod of his head, checking up on all the other members before rallying the team up again.

When they slot the next golden tablet in, the room lights up again with the image of the memory. The edges of it are brighter this time, less jagged and more peaceful, so large that the Thieves have to step back to take in the whole scene.

This time Hinata is staring at a dark alleyway hiding from drenched sunshine. Since the image is much brighter than the last, Akechi takes the opportunity to observe the whole vaulted room (a cathedral? A shrine?) in the light.

The walls and pillars are about what he expects, but the ceiling catches his attention. There's a large sinuous shape coiling around the lone strand of moonlight shining from the ceiling, though the light of the memory doesn't entirely light up curves of any visible limbs and such. It lies unmoving for now, though it moves like it's breathing, and Akechi narrows his eyes at it before he looks back at the memory playing in front of him.

He sees the shoes he wears every day to school. Hinata swivels her head to look to the side where he sits, wearing his school uniform with his white summer shirt neatly pressed and hair brushed immaculate. Akechi didn't realise how out of place he looked against the run-down brick and aged buildings around him as he sat there quietly, patient as he waited for Hinata.

"Do you think Shion is a mistake? Tell me straight." Hinata asks, her memories painting Akechi in soft shades as he raises an eyebrow in surprise before a thoughtful frown overtakes his face when he poses the question in return.

"To answer your question," this memory Akechi replies in a voice that's strangely soothing, so logically impartial. Steadfast logic in a world that doesn't make sense anymore, Hinata's thinks in a swirl around them, maybe this boy praised by so many would answer her question in a way she can believe, perhaps. "I must ask you a counter-question. Osumi-san, do you think Shion is a mistake?"

Shion, still mostly pudge, stares out at all of them when Hinata glances down. The baby's face is shifting, wavering from the sheer sentimentality of Hinata's thoughts. While Akechi had been drawing his mother on Hinata, Hinata had been imagining the baby in her arms growing up.

A toddler, laughing. A child in elementary, white teeth set between chubby cheeks as he ran towards her after a day at school. A teenager, Shion growing up into that large forehead, squinty eyes becoming handsome slants. Days out while he laughed with his friends, coming home with that happy laugh of his but grown up, chuckles that came from deep in his chest.

What hobbies would he have, Hinata wondered. How long would he see and call her 'mother' without questions that had difficult answers? How long would he live before he realised that Hinata hadn't really wanted him, planned for him, and had only fallen in love with him when she bore the fruits of her mistakes?

Would he hate himself, Hinata thinks, when he thinks of how he has now replaced Hinata's future? Would he hate her because of how much of a mess she is? Her father loved to point out how Hinata had hardly known how to be an adult. How could she be a mother, just like that?

Hinata's thoughts jumble and mix until all she sees is Shion's face, his future in her mind replaced by a baby whose life still hadn't stretched into that future just yet, and she says, slowly, "I… don't know."

The Akechi in her memory hardly hesitates.

"Then that is my answer."

 _How stupid is it that she's turning to a newly turned seventeen-year-old for answers,_ Hinata thinks even as she bursts out "That's not an answer!"

Did his eyes really gain that sad cast, Akechi thinks distantly. Had he really looked so wistful? Is Hinata's memory sketching him as more sympathetic than he really was, as the memory shows Akechi retracting his hand from Shion to face her, brown eyes filled with a clarity that Hinata desperately wanted. Wisdom, from someone she trusted, from someone that's only proving to her that he actually cared because his words aren't echoes from someone else's mouth, from people who seemed to sympathise but never enough. They'd listen to her while only really hearing the label of young mother and not Hinata Osumi, and she listens to this boy whose eyes are too sad and too knowing, as he replies that it's her decision, in a life where so many of her decisions have been lost and stolen.

Goro Akechi looks at her and says the words she didn't know she needed to hear.

"Your opinion is the only one that matters," Akechi finishes without his trademark smile and oddly sincere for it. Hinata feels a flash of affection for this boy even though she thinks she's on the verge of breaking somewhere, feeling his words in a place that she hadn't known she needed validation so _much_.

"So if I say that Shion isn't a mistake," Hinata asks from somewhere that punches these words out of her, something that feels awfully like hope. Akechi answers like sunlight glancing off a silver wind, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

"Then Shion isn't a mistake."

The complicated emotions that spark from that answer are overwhelmed by sheer _relief,_ and the memory starts to fade. In the returning darkness, Akechi returns from thought to see all the Phantom Thieves staring at him. Makoto, as usual, looks strangely conflicted, and Akira's unwavering attention is, as always, unreadable. Akechi's skin is prickling – perhaps sharing this Palace had been a mistake, he has so many on his list that he could have taken the Thieves, something less _revealing_ – and he has to swallow and look away from Akira's eyes to look at Futaba who has crept closer to him again, practically leaning on his arm as she readjusts her goggles on her face. Ann is looking down, next to an introspective Yusuke.

"Crow, you're –," Ryuji starts, his voice quiet like it rarely is. He's not really looking at Akechi at all, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but there's an unpleasantly heavy sentiment in his tone. Akechi is uncomfortable enough to take a step back with a small laugh.

"I am not the saint she's depicting me as," Akechi replies, voice light before Futaba whacks him.

"Shut up. Stop sabotaging yourself and I see those tissues, Inari! Don't just save them all for yourself!"

The mood is understandably odd when they all go through the third doorway that appeared after the memory played. Akechi is fascinated and uncomfortable all at once when he observes that the few steps the Thieves had unconsciously put between him and themselves are nearly erased. They find the Shadow guarding the last golden tablet with uncannily accurate calls from Futaba, and Akira engages battle without even letting it speak.

Since the Shadow wasn't dressed like Shido, Akechi's mind flickers to the dark coils of whatever hid in the ceiling of the main hall.

…The fight may be difficult.

The Phantom Thieves were strangely quiet when they went back the way they came. They all watched solemnly when Akira reached up and slotted the third golden tablet into the altar.

The memory that plays is dark. The image is small, shrunk. In pain.

White. Cold.

It's cold, so bitterly cold. Hinata has always hated the cold. She first felt the snow and the wind like a million bites but it seeped through and now she only felt it nipping at her when wind slides down her back. Her dress isn't anything that could help protect from the snow, but she didn't have anything warmer. She sold it all over the internet to guarantee a month of rent, and she's always been stupid, never thinking ahead.

Behind her is a blazing party, and laughter is drifting over snowy drifts and across the wall and Hinata wishes she was anywhere but here. She wishes she was warm and safe, that she was playing around with her girls (who weren't hers anymore, who had abandoned her the moment she started showing, like pregnancy could _catch,_ idiots). She wishes she was on a beach, or on a hike, or dreaming of doing a modelling gig, or anything that's not here waiting for a bastard to beg for favours she shouldn't be begging for.

Another few people leave the party. A man and a woman. The woman is talking in a lovely fur coat, and the man nods absently at her and catches Hinata's eye, before promptly sliding his eyes away.

Again. Not him.

Hinata wonders if she will die this way. She twists her fingers in front of her, slow to react, and stumbles onto her knees to get up. Her belly gets in the way, and sometimes Hinata _hates_ it, hates this thing that's growing in her like some alien parasite leeching _everything_ away when another set of steps sound on the gravel.

When she recognises the boy dressed to the nines she dives forward. She catches him in the arm, and the wide eyes of a teen greet her as she says something, anything, to catch his attention, to get him to help, she barely lasted this long, how was she going to last being homeless for days like this, please, _please._

The boy slowly frowns, and Hinata barely registers when he pulls her up.

"What's your name?" The boy asks, looking back to her face even after he's noticed her stomach. He doesn't have that uncomfortable side-eye, the sudden hunch in someone's shoulders when they're burdened with something more troublesome than expected. He asks her questions that gradually clear Hinata's thoughts, the memory becoming less jumbled as they continue talking, gaining clarity when Akechi offers her a phone. There's a kind old lady on the other side that offers everything she needs, and Hinata's hands are shaking not because they're cold, but because she's overwhelmed by hope.

The memory melts away and the altar in front of them saps the golden glow from the tablets into its esoteric lines. Then it somehow untwists as it unlocks and shifts away to reveal that it was covering a dark octagonal hole in the floor, a mechanism making the altar rotate and sink to the floor they were standing on, the golden light coalescing to hit the one strand of red moonlight that had been shining down from the ceiling all this time.

The red strand of moonlight turns golden.

Then, in a blink, it's not moonlight.

It's a single silk thread. It hangs, wafting gently, stretching impossibly long from the small opening from the ceiling.

"Is that silk?" Someone says in front of him, but that's interrupted when Akechi feels a presence behind him.

"That's you, Akechi-kun," a voice says from behind them, and every single one of them whirls around. The Thieves are taken aback by the state of Hinata Osumi's Shadow, and someone swallows so loudly that even Akechi hears, standing at the back of the pack. Hinata ignores them, her Shadow eyeing the golden thread with a wistful look. "A golden strand lowered to save someone like me. I haven't seen it in a while," Hinata's Shadow says almost fondly. "I used to be able to talk to you too, but I drove you away. And you left behind… one single golden thread."

An impossibly thin thread of sunlight floating like a single strand of golden hair.

"The story of the Spider's Thread," Makoto murmurs. "Written in the 1910s by Ryunosuke Akutagawa. Buddha takes pity on Kangata, a sinner in Hell whose only good deed was to save a spider's life. He lowers a single spider's thread for Kangata's escape from Hell, only for it to snap when he demonstrates his selfishness in trying to claim the thread only for himself, condemning him to hell forever."

It's easy to see, with the golden thread floating so slightly, that the thread is snapped right before touching the water that they all stand in. Hinata looks at the golden thread longingly, eyes trailing up to where the strand disappears.

"Watching that memory reminds me… Akechi-kun, before I thought mistakes were easy things to understand. But some days when I look at Shion..." she pauses. "Some days I think Shion can never be a mistake. So small," she murmurs as a soft wind whistles through her bones, her ribcage, and floats the golden thread away from her lighter than air. "So warm. A life, something that grew in me and depends on me and loves me and everything I lack. Other days, I know. My situation is a mistake, signing myself away on that extra maid service, trusting that man. Blinded," she laughs bitterly, "by his money. If I could travel back, I would. I would grab my hand before I signed that maid contract, I would shake my own shoulders and tell her no, don't do it, you're going to suffer, you're going to cry and freeze and want to die. Your family will cut you off, you're not going to get any good jobs, and all your friends will pity you behind your back and want you off their couch in a week. Stop, _stop, stop."_

Hinata pauses, still. The golden thread glows and floats in her large eyes, and she whispers.

"But isn't that admitting Shion is a mistake, Akechi-kun? Isn't that me throwing Shion away already, in my mind, with my emotions? His one and only mother, the only one who loves him. Akechi-kun, I'm already a failure as a daughter, as a student, as a worker. But now I'm going to be a failure as a mother too? Akechi-kun, aren't I horrible for wishing Shion wasn't there sometimes when he thinks the world of me?"

Hinata's wavering fingers touch her ribcage, over the empty cavity where her heart should be and her face is impossibly sad.

"Do you think us empty, Akechi-kun? Without substance, without use. Can't even keep a job without running away, cursing Shion with bad cards at birth?"

"Osumi-san," Akechi replies, just as quietly, acutely aware of the burning gazes of the Phantom Thieves behind him. They're watching him, some with sympathy, some with uncanny interest. The words he wants to say are ones he has thought since childhood, but the raw honesty of it gets stuck in his throat like bile when he thinks of saying those words in front of so many. His mother is not entertainment, and they are not yet the friends they may be.

There has been too much raw honesty in the room already.

"Whatever you're callin' yourself, you ain't it," says someone behind him, and Hinata's eyes shift slightly to the left, assessing, before the Shadow breaks into a small smile.

"It seems your friends are just as kind as you are, Akechi-kun."

"Friends is a little…" _Premature_ is what Akechi wants to say, but a person steps up behind him and Ryuji Sakamoto's voice is much stronger.

"Hell yeah, he's our friend. Osumi, yeah? We're going to save you right alongside him. Right guys?"

The Thieves chorus affirmations behind him and Akechi's skin prickles at hearing it. Goosebumps, not from the cold.

In his previous life, he would have called the feeling distaste.

Hinata smiles at them, before stepping even closer. She had always kept her distance, lingering in Shadows and dark corners so that Akechi hadn't noticed. Hinata Osumi's Shadow is slightly see-through and it's obvious to see that this version of her is fading like someone edged her out in water-colour, the black smoke melting from her rotting form and blurring her with the background.

And Akechi knows.

It's time to move the conversation forward anyway.

"You're just a projection," Akechi says, lowering his hand from his chin and standing up straight. "Judging by the placement of the silk thread, the real Shadow of Hinata Osumi is at the bottom of that underwater hole we just unlocked, most likely alongside your Treasure. Am I right, Osumi-san?"

"Yes, you are," Hinata replies with a small smile. "I'm not just a projection of Hinata's true Shadow though. There are many things she represses, some of which is merely… a desire for freedom. The right to reach out for help. That stubbornness that made her stay up two days straight when her friends told her she'd never get a pass in math. That shard of optimism is me, though it seems like my time is running out."

Even as she speaks a part of her leg sloughs away into black smoke, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Will you save the me trapped down there, in a prison of her own making?" Hinata asks. "The one who has sunk herself at the bottom of a well so deep she doesn't see the point in trying to get out? I worry for Hinata, sometimes, when I'm getting weaker and I know she's getting stronger. I don't know… how much longer I'll be here."

Hinata's form violently wavers. "It… it seems I'm running out of time. I hope… I hope you, you all can save Hinata…" She takes a step back, then another. Then she fades away, leaving Akechi a few moments of thought before he turns around to face the Thieves.

"We need to find a way to reach the depths of that well," Akechi says with a familiar plastic smile stretching his face. "Oracle, scan how deep this… 'underwater prison' is."

Futaba cocks her head to the side, before comically scrambling for her Persona. Within a few seconds, Futaba stops squinting through something only she senses through her goggles. "Something about the water is blocking my scanning abilities! If Osumi's Shadow didn't point out the Treasure was down that hole, I wouldn't have even noticed."

"It looks quite deep," Yusuke breaks his silence to say the obvious out loud. "I wonder how long I can hold my breath?" He wonders right afterwards in deep thought. "It's an unfortunate oversight on my part to not have measured such a thing beforehand."

"It seems like this might be something we'll need to manipulate the real world for," Morgana cuts in with a frown on her face. "Crow, you seemed quite close to her. Do you have an idea on what would get this water level down?"

Akechi walks past all of them, eventually standing next to Akira to stare down at what their puzzle-solving had revealed. The last stretch of Hinata's Palace to be a deep well of water hidden underneath an altar of memories that blocked her last chance of climbing out of Hell…

He already has an idea of what to do. Shido will never understand the lengths Akechi had to go through to always deliver his marks on time. Palaces were tricky things, and someone who was so removed from the Metaverse would never understand how a person's cognition twists and betrays itself.

When he's next to Akira, who is standing in front of the well, Akechi kneels and sticks a hand into the well and his hand glows the same shade of gold as the thread. The light is warm, safe. Akechi can't feel the cold at all.

Akira promptly kneels next to him and tries to do the same, but all he gains is a wet glove.

"No matter how Osumi-san's tries to reject other people," Akechi says out loud for the Thieves' benefit, "no-one can stop their subconsciousness acknowledging certain things when they're presented to them. A song being played on a radio getting stuck in your head for the rest of the day, the smell of a dish giving you nostalgic memories of home. Or… a knock on the door from an old acquaintance, telling you that they want to be friends again. Mona," Akechi glances back at the cat as he pulls his hand out of the water. The cat's ears stand to attention, "as you can see, I have already done the required preparations to reach Osumi-san and the Treasure. You can send the calling card tomorrow, so we can free her the day after if Joker is willing."

Akira nods slightly at that with no objections.

"But if that glow only affects you, doesn't that mean you'll have to face the Boss alone?" Futaba bursts out, and Akechi laughs.

"Hinata Osumi is merely a prisoner in her own Palace," Akechi replies with that same smile stuck on his face. The words feel strange in his mouth, and even though sharing this Palace with the Thieves had been his idea in the first place, he's feeling a little regret he's shown them these sides of himself that were _private,_ that weren't supposed to be seen by. "Her whole Palace is a story of disempowerment. I doubt she will be the one fighting when we're trying to free her."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Ann asks with a confused frown, and Akechi smirks humourlessly. He raises a finger first to his lips, before using it to point at the ceiling. The gargantuan coils of something folded up, tucked in and undoubtedly alive, and the Thieves strangle gasps when they finally spot it lurking in the dark.

"The size of that thing gives it a lot of potential to be the king of hell," Akechi says cheerfully, "and I'd imagine that the moment I tried to save Osumi-san and take the treasure that massive cognition blocking our way to the surface will take action. Wouldn't you agree that staying up here would be more dangerous than me going down to face the Shadow of a friend?"

  


* * *

  


He explains to the Thieves that he's being monitored and disappears into Mementos soon after to go home. His identity has been revealed anyway, and he is halfway resigned that Futaba Sakura will soon have troves of information on every public and private event he'd ever gone to for the past two years and start drawing conclusions from the blank spaces in between.

Akechi knows he'll have to nip that in the bud soon. But not now. Later.

Akechi feels tight in his own skin. He feels this underlying itch of something that doesn't feel quite right, knowing that Hinata had seen through him so well while seeing nothing at all. He thinks it would have been alright if Akechi had actively been facing Hinata with the smile of a saint, acted out the role of someone with infinite patience and kindness like Saito.

In a world where everyone had abandoned her to death, transformed into demonic cognitions or disappeared, Akechi had been given the kindest treatment of all though he had also left her to rot.

In another world, Akechi would have been smug about that. He would have been glad that he'd won her recognition, that his efforts had accordingly borne fruit, that he had successfully changed the Phantom Thieves' opinion of him without much effort in his part after all. They had practically fallen into his palm already, after this. It works out. It's _good._

In this world, Akechi thought he would've been embroiled with rage. Go down to the depths of Mementos and kill any Shadow he could see to release pent up anger. Another victim of society, memories fuelling frustration, anger which was familiar, here so easily directed at himself for not regarding Hinata sooner.

But there is no anger today. He is…

It would have been easier if Hinata had hated him. Akechi knows what to do with that. He thrives in it.

Mementos is silent, but it always is. Roiling red clouds swim above his head with unrealistic speed, and Akechi crouches and breathes in the smell of stagnation, concrete, that slightly metallic tang at the back of his throat that is unique to the Metaverse.

He thinks he only needs a moment. A moment, before he will get his bearings back, his familiar calm state of mind. He will become the Goro Akechi that Hinata Osumi needs and knows, the one who is calm and collected and able to give her patience and time as she needed it. In a moment he will become the Goro Akechi who can look at a mother's love and not _hurt_ at knowing how a tale like this can end.

His mother had used a clothesline to hang herself, looped three times. She had bought it cheap from the market down the street and snipped it to size.

A moment becomes two, then three.

His mind is somewhere in another world, another time.

The quietest sound of shoes on concrete. Silently, someone sits cross-legged next to him, this random road in the surface of Mementos. Resting an elbow on one of their knees, propping their head in one hand. When Akechi glances to the side, he sees that Akira is as comfortable as he can be facing Akechi, eyes closed.

His presence is undemanding, though there's a little cognitive dissonance to see Akira in the Metaverse in his school uniform. Shujin's red and black checkers blend into the Metaverse particularly well, but Akechi's uniform stands out.

"…Why are you here?" Akechi asks, his voice steady and controlled.

He thinks he can burst out at Akira at any time – there are words bubbling, he thinks, that can cut Akira away right now. The Thieves, _Akira,_ had no business in this. Shido, definitely.

His mother is private.

Akira hums. His eyes open a sliver, looking at Akechi through thick eyelashes before closing them again when he saw Akechi wasn't moving.

"Keeping you company," Akira replies. When Akechi rises to his feet, Akira uncurls himself and stands up in a fluid motion. Akechi holds his attaché case a little too tight in his hands, leather creaking and Akechi ignores it. Hands in his pockets, bag slung over his shoulder, Akira asks, "Don't want me here?"

Akechi pauses, looking at the debris and rubble and skeletal remains peeking out of this parallel city. Humanity's cognition, an empty city of dust and ruin, and he replies without looking at Akira.

"No, you can stay. Talk about what the Phantom Thieves are doing."

Akira blinks at him at that, before his mouth purses a little. A finger goes up to play with a curl of his hair, as he takes a few moments to gather his thoughts. Akechi has already started walking when Akira starts.

"Yusuke went home to design the card so that Morgana can deliver it to Hinata tomorrow," Akira begins, the low cadence of his voice the only sound in the world. Their footsteps are silent on the concrete as Akechi winds through half-familiar streets. "Futaba says she has a 'hunch' and has also found your personal mobile number through my phone, so after I told her I had to meet a friend she headed back home…"

Akira's speech drifts from each Thief before it pauses, Akira's eyes darting across to look at Akechi before he rolls his head and starts another topic. This time it's something familiar, Akira taking the job for the flower shop at Shibuya station. Hanasaki, his senpai, is impressed by the knowledge he already has whenever he has to make a bouquet. Hanasaki's favourite flower are white roses, and Akira has always favoured red carnations, and they tried to make a bouquet out of them when there weren't any customers…

Thoughts drift into Akechi's head as he listens to Akira.

 _Why are you here?_ Is one of them, before it's promptly followed by _perhaps this is what friends do_. It's not as if Akira had never invited him to places. There had been many times where Akira was glad to merely sit and do his homework while Akechi sipped coffee at LeBlanc. He had merely never searched Akechi out deliberately before, knowing he was the traitor.

"…See you, Akira-kun," Akechi says when they reach a road he knows will be filled with enough human traffic. He gives Akira a small bow, pausing when he sees Akira replies with a small frown.

"Come to LeBlanc tomorrow," Akira offers. It's nearly a demand, from someone that's usually so unassuming. In his eyes is concern.

"Perhaps if I have time," Akechi says with a smile that fits nearly perfect now. "I'll be sure to see you again soon to steal Osumi-san's heart anyway." He bows again, before disappearing back into the real world.

  


* * *

  


In the year of 2004, Akechi sat in the bath of a bathhouse where the water level was too high for his height. While the old men around him had the water reach their chest while sitting down, for him the hot water reached all the way to his neck.

"Boy, you're here again?" One of the old men asked, voice gruff but kind. He asked Akechi this every time, even though Akechi never replied. "You sure love baths, huh. I think the only guy who bathes more than you is Old Genta."

Old Genta, mostly deaf in both ears, sat happily in the corner that he claimed for his own most days, far away from the staircase that leads out of the steaming water where people came and went.

Akechi didn't glance at him. He didn't even acknowledge the old man, who liked to have his hair cropped close to the skin and was a familiar voice at the local butchery's, his voice bellowing out onto the street as he greeted old customers with enthusiasm.

"Alright, I won't bother you," the old man said as he wiped his face with a towel before resting it on his head. "It's time I headed out anyway. These old bones can't take as much heat as they used to."

With big, heavy steps, the old man sloshed to the edge and heaved himself out. Soon, a few late-night bathers came in, four middle-aged men that worked at the construction office just up the street. While they showered and joked on the side, the rest of the old men left the bathhouse with creaking steps and sighs.

Akechi took a break in the middle, skin red-hot as he sat on one of the chairs in the locker room with a free cup of cold water in his hands. When the construction workers finished their bath and came out to retrieve their things, they barely diverted more than half a second of curiosity at Akechi sitting there alone before going back to their business, leaving the bath-house with raucous discussions as to who would treat drinks next.

This particular bathhouse closed at 1 AM, was brightly lit, and was located three stores down the street from a police station. Stay was unlimited for only three hundred yen, and it was the reason why his mother favoured the place for all the years they'd lived here, pressing a five-hundred-yen coin into Akechi's hands never expecting change back. It was one of his mother's many small, unspoken kindnesses, knowing that Akechi saved the two-hundred yen for a treat every few weeks or so.

His backpack served as a good enough desk, balanced on his knees as he scribbled his homework under the lamps, leaking steam from the doorway curling the edges of his notebook with a slight wrinkle. The laundry room had a good bench for that, and he'd finished the day's work by 10 PM. There was an old analogue clock hung on the wall that he checked for reference, the ticking sounds swallowed by the hum of the machines. Generally, his mother's guests could stay from thirty minutes to hours and hours if they started drinking. Akechi never knew for sure, and he'd rather stay here, where it was silent and empty save for the humming washing machines and the slight sound of water from the bathhouse than in his tiny room listening to his mother do business.

Akechi got out the books he'd borrowed from the school library and grimaced at them. His eyes were too tired to focus on the text, his head constantly drooping until he rested it on the sweating wooden beam next to him. There were pictures at least, and Akechi skipped pages to look at them instead, making up his own story as he went along.

A lost dog, who ran to different places and met different people, until he found the way home, the last picture of the dog wagging his tail as he finally found his worried owner.

Home… Akechi glanced up at the clock. 12 AM should be fine right? Akechi rubbed his eyes and yawned, uncurling himself from where he sat. He pushed his feet into loose runners and hauled his backpack onto his back, walking back the way home.

Familiar dark corners washed by the moon. Streetlights flickered a little too much, and a roaming dog howled somewhere not-so-far, a lonely sound against the chirp of summer crickets. The apartment loomed closer, windows densely packed against the side of the building, and Akechi slipped inside silently. A few flights up and Akechi held his breath when he reached up for the doorknob.

It's unlocked. The door opens with a small creak, Akechi wrinkling his nose at the lingering smell of alcohol that washes over him. The lamp by the TV is still on, but the guest is gone judging by the lack of foreign shoes. He hears his mother snoring somewhere past the kitchen, and Akechi slides the door carefully shut and locks the heavy latch behind him. He puts his backpack by the door so he can easily get it tomorrow, and although he's been warned not to before, he cracks the door open to his mother's room and watches the rise and fall of her breaths. Tonight's clothes are just a rumpled mess on the floor, ruffles and cheap satin a puddle near the doorway, but Akechi feels a weird feeling of peace anyway when he closes the door and goes to change clothes, slipping into his bed.

The next morning, his mother is awake before him, standing at the kitchen. She's frying an egg to put over a single slice of toast, and she put in a mash of some leftovers from a few days before on too, some sort of chewy celery mix that needed to be eaten. It doesn't look appetising. When it's placed in front of him, Akechi eats it without complaint.

"Do you want me to send you to school, Goro?" His mother asks with a smile. She clearly doesn't want to. She's only picking at her food, adjusting herself with a wince on her chair, and Akechi knows the right answer.

"I can go to school alone."

Her shoulders slump in relief.

"Okay. I'll have dinner cooked for you when you come home today, alright? You'll have to cook the rice by yourself."

His mother kisses him on the cheek after they stuff the dishes into the sink, and she shuffles off back into her room while Akechi ties his shoes by himself. He checks his homework, his pencil case, his keys, his bus-pass and the apple he has for lunch are all inside his backpack before he quietly sets the lock to auto-lock, leaving without another goodbye.

He stands at the bus-stop and wonders whether he can see his mother again after school.

Probably not, if she said she was cooking dinner. A long nightshift.

Akechi shows his bus-pass to the bus driver and heads towards his usual seat. The bus trundles off down the street with the smell of stale air-conditioning, and the days go on, as they always go. He knows he doesn't have the power to do anything yet. The only thing he can do is be less of the burden he knows he is and wish for a better day.

So he goes back and cooks enough rice for two, setting it on warm and washing his dishes afterwards. He keeps himself as neat and tidy as the teachers have ever taught him and tucks himself into bed and stares at the ceiling until he hears his mother open the door, tired, late.

And so it goes and continues to go, as Akechi wakes up. There's a text from Shido asking him to appear at some party or another with the golden invitation he received on the night with Fusa, and Akechi's hands clench around the phone in anger.

He wonders, yet again, why a man like Shido enjoyed all the wealth, power, and prestige he did. How can the world, society, support a man like him to the success he enjoys?

 _'Life is unfair,'_ many have stated to him over the years. Like he should just roll over and accept it when the world tries to kick and tread you down. As if all anyone could do was to take a step back and take the blows as they fell. As if there wasn't any point in standing up against injustice to fight back when people needed it most.

And Akechi had done the same for so many years. Ignored those who huddled in corners, mocked the pathetic desperation of the children he'd lived with in orphanages. He'd laughed at people giving him praise for their ignorance, and he killed on a madman's whim even as he raged against how the world had treated him.

His life was not petty. He knows none of the issues he's faced are petty at all. But _he had been._ Perhaps Shido had treated him as a joke because that's all he was. His plans had been short-sighted and childish, and he had failed to rise above his anger and drowned in it. Letting Shido define him and shape him and placing himself over all others while high-handedly touting 'justice' and 'right' and how 'the world had hurt him'.

Akechi thinks of Hinata's Shadow, the memories that had been filled with so much love for Shion and feels the weight of someone who had once been Shido's first tool of choice.

Akechi has always chosen the way he'd lived. He'd chosen to be Shido's tool and died for the consequences. He'd chosen to live, to fight for a way against him, fight fate itself – and perhaps one of the consequences of that was to face his hypocrisy.

He is a fool in so many ways.

It is then, as he's lying in bed, watching the pink bloom of dawn transform into the true white shine of day that he hears the whisper again.

_Do you understand now?_

A tie on his heart that leads a man who must, even now, be fighting against the various wrongs of society in Kyoto with a too sharp grin and a voice that Akechi sometimes still, even now, hears when he's trying to decide, when he's trying his best to reach over that voice in his heart that sounds like Loki's burning whispers about the dregs of society, the unworthy.

In a world where he had never been given a second chance, a man had extended his trust again, put his head on the chopping block alongside his and smiled.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

And the voice asks,

_Do you hear me?_

  


* * *

  


Akechi ends up politely rejecting both Akira's offer to go to LeBlanc and Futaba's sudden message spam on his phone. It's strangely nostalgic to see Futaba's constant pings on his phone, but she seems appeased when he says that he'll pop into LeBlanc sometime next week. Just not before Hinata's Palace.

The next day passes with nothing of note. He goes to Police Headquarters as usual, sits with Shido's plants and discusses fake evidence that all of them know is fake for a few hours. Both Futaba and Akira text him to say that Morgana had successfully sent the notice to steal Hinata's heart, and Akechi replies that he'd be ready after school tomorrow as well.

He doesn't bother waiting for them when he realises that he arrived at Hinata's Palace earlier than them. He breaks his way down the Palace by himself instead, arriving in front of the altar long before anyone else. He stares down at the opening of the well until the Thieves arrive in a thunder of splashing and sprinting.

"Whew, we were so scared you weren't going to wait for us!" Ann remarks with a large smile that crinkles her eyes, all the uncertainty and fear from the other day gone already.

"You shouldn't have pressed forward without us, Crow." Makoto frowns underneath her steel mask, red eyes narrowed. "Since you elected us to help you as partners, we should all try to work together."

"He probably just thinks he's not part of the Thieves yet, Queen," Ryuji gives them all an affable shrug before he looks to Akira. "Hey, Joker. What now? Do we begin?"

At Akira's nod, Morgana hops forward.

"Well, Crow. Are you ready?" Morgana asks, tail swishing as his large eyes blink in something that could be called concern. "You're our key operator today since you're the only one who can go down to where the Treasure is."

Akechi sits at the edge of the well, swinging his legs down into it. There's only a brief chill before the gold glow covers them, and he feels no cold at all. He glances at the Thieves, adjusting Morrigan's mask over his face.

"The moment I manage to take the Treasure and convince Hinata Osumi's Shadow to follow me up is most likely the moment that monster above your heads will strike," Akechi informs the group. He doesn't think it is a trick of the light that the ceiling above them shifts, like one long intertwined limb preparing to loosen and fall. "Be careful not to fall before the two of us climb out," he directs this last sentence to Akira, who nods seriously.

And without another word, Akechi slips into the water and the world is immediate silence.

Above him, through the dim waver of the water's surface, eight eyes spring open to stare down at them.

  


* * *

  


The well's shaft is impossibly deep. The walls are smooth concrete when he lets one of his hands feel the surface, with no lines or cracks that would help their eventual climb upwards. The well doesn't widen or narrow – its octagonal shape is kept perfectly as Akechi keeps sinking down, down, down.

The surface of the well is near invisible when Akechi finally sees the end and the Shadow that is kneeling in the middle. Right behind her is the glowing shape of what is presumably the Treasure.

"Akechi-kun," Hinata says without lifting her head. Her long black hair curtains her face, hides it as it wafts gently in the water. "Why are you here?"

"To take you out of here, Osumi-san," Akechi replies.

"Why?"

"Because I wish to help," Akechi replies, standing in front of her. "Because I do not think you deserve this."

"Don't I?" Hinata asks, shoulders heavy.

"No, you don't," Akechi says firmly, reaching out a hand. "Osumi… No, Hinata-san. Come up with me to the surface."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Hinata replies immediately in an outburst, looking up for the first time. She's nearly all skull by now, her features practically melted away as she looks at Akechi, who doesn't flinch. "I've tried so many times, Akechi-kun. Even when your gold thread snapped, even when I found myself in this prison all alone, I wanted to, I tried my best to escape, I…"

Hinata's Shadow is impossibly crying underwater, droplets of tears that float downwards for a second before dispersing around them. She's hiding her face ineffectually through skeletal hands, and Akechi reaches one glowing hand through the dark water and touches one of them.

"It's so hard to breathe, Akechi-kun," Hinata manages, curling up at the touch. "I'm drowning and drowning and drowning, but I never die so I keep reaching, but when I try to reach I only see darkness." Hinata's eyes look up through the gaps of her fingers and she tilts her head up, and for a moment she looks like a figure in prayer as her eyes search for a light from the press of icy black water that surrounds them. Bubbles rise from their breaths, a shimmer of silver that glimmer from a brief reflection of Akechi's light before they quickly fade as they escape to the surface, far out of reach. "Sometimes I think I feel a light, a little bit of warmth, but when I try and swim up it's so impossibly hard that halfway there I always miss my chance, the light's gone and I just give up and sink. I fall in slow motion from that place where it's not painful to breathe, and it becomes a dream somewhere far, far away—"

A stone in his chest and he breathes through concrete lungs to smile, smile, smile, because if he didn't he knew no-one would want him around.

He wonders if there is a well in everybody's heart, ready to catch them as they fell.

"…Hinata-san," Akechi says, voice carefully expressionless. "Look at me."

It takes a second where Hinata squeezes her eyes shut before she looks at Akechi, standing there with that faint glow of light. She flinches back when Akechi dips into a half-kneel in front of her so that they were speaking at the same level. He looks at her through Morrigan's bladed feather mask, the manifestation of his will to never, ever stop fighting. For his life, for his future. To fight fate itself.

It didn't mean he was unfamiliar with the emotions that Hinata was going through.

"Why am I glowing, Hinata-san?" Akechi asks, and Hinata's reply is a cracked laugh.

"I don't want any of this to touch you, Akechi-kun," Hinata replies. "You don't deserve it. You're younger than me, a high school prodigy, a detective who can save so many more. You never judged me because of Shion. I watch you talk of a world where the elderly are treasured, the young are nurtured, where everyone is given respect before judgment. You'll go to university, get a degree. Change the world into a better place. You shouldn't be here at all. That's why… you glow."

There's a yearning in Hinata's eyes when she looks at him. It's unlike the glow in Shido's eyes when he saw Akechi, with something possessive. It wasn't the gaze from his fans when they greeted him when they placed him on an imitable pedestal. It was… a gaze that he'd seen before.

Slightly lonely, slightly jealous.

It was the look of someone who saw something they couldn't have.

He understands that feeling very well. It is perhaps the one emotion he is most familiar with, living through all his years.

So Akechi also understands this.

"You haven't given up yet, Hinata-san," Akechi says, looking straight into her eyes.

"Why do you think that?" She asks with a small bitter laugh.

"There is still something that you want, isn't there?" Akechi asks. "I know you do."

Hinata blinks.

"Perhaps, I once wanted a lot of things. A nice shopping session to get some nice shoes, go to the beach and know that people were looking at me because I looked good. I wanted a cat to snuggle with, I wanted to go to university just to spite my parents. But now, I… I want to go where I can breathe. Yes," Hinata says faintly, "that's it. A place where I can breathe freely. To know I can just stand somewhere and play with Shion and not feel like I shouldn't be. Akechi-kun, sometimes I wonder if I'm even alive. When the pain is gone there's just numbness, and you're supposed to feel when you're alive, right?"

Akechi reaches out a hand. It's a hand clothed in armour fuelled by anger and spite, of hatred at the world, of a burning determination to grasp all the world denied him for himself. He has killed many with these hands because of that hatred. This hand is not the best hand to save someone else.

But he is the only one here she will listen to. So he tries.

"You aren't alone," Akechi says to Hinata. "I'm here."

The shadow of his mother looks at him with empty eyes in the darkness. To her, he wasn't enough. He knew he had never been.

In front of him, Hinata's eyes widen before they glisten. Slowly, she raises her hand to rest on his open palm. Glistening fingers of bone on black metal, brittle and easy to snap. She can't seem to find the words when Akechi slowly grasps Hinata's hand back.

"Do you think Shion will forgive me one day?" Hinata asks, small.

Akechi does not ask what she thinks she needs forgiveness for. Many silences over the years have answered that question for him, over and over.

"A child does not need a reason to love their parent. They just do." Akechi replies quietly. He tries to put himself into words for the first time, of the emotions that he sometimes tries to deny he feels when he thinks of his mother. He has never blamed her for what happened with Shido. He knows, at least, how to compartmentalise. But… "What we learn as we grow is hate, Hinata-san. Hate, confusion, and guilt. We learn regret and despair and grief, and it is when we learn such matters without our parents, without those we expect support from, that we start directing those emotions at them."

It may be a curse of having a good memory and a relatively petty heart, to remember so clearly all the instances that mothers would drop work and come pick up their son or daughter who had fallen sick. To see a child cry in the park, and their father pick them up and scold them for crying in public even as they patted their back and carried them home. To want his mother to hug him when he was staring at her corpse before being led away.

He lost his only photograph of her when he was twelve.

Sometimes Akechi wonders, with a brutal twist of honesty, whether he would hate his mother if she had died any later. At eight, he had still been forgiving and unreservedly trusting towards her. Flaws were easily blamed on others, her neglect overlooked in the search for her attention.

Could he claim the same at twelve? At fifteen?

If she was not enshrined in his memories untouchable in death, would he have loathed her alongside the rest of this world?

Akechi knows. He knows the answer.

Whispers, crying, poverty, mockery. Blame, in tiny gestures, never explicitly stated but heard so loud.

Hate is so easy in a world like this.

"Shion is still young. You can still be his guide as he learns more about the hypocrisy of society. As a detective, I have seen many people falter and fail as they live their lives, Hinata-san. Coming from… No." Akechi interrupts himself, as he stands up. Their hands are interlocked, his hand a soft glow in the darkness that holds Hinata's own white bones, and he tries to gently pull her up. "Hinata-san, don't choose to become a tragedy in your son's life. There is… still nothing to be forgiven."

Hinata's eyes close then, and Akechi waits.

He can afford to wait. He thinks he has waited a long time for this.

There is the shadow of his mother, whose face is vague in a dress that always smelled like violets and lavender when she had headed out, pulling her heels on with an impatient tug of a finger as Akechi finished dinner. It's her small figure from the kitchen window as Akechi stood on a stool and washed the dishes, walking quickly down the street to the men and women that come and go in her life, towards the hustle and bustle of a society that only looked at her when they wanted to use her.

He's asked this before, and he asks now again.

"Hinata-san, do you love Shion?"

Perhaps no-one will know that something in him still hurts when he stares at the truth.

" _No,"_ his mother replies in the darkness. She is dressed in her favourite dress, one with sakura prints delicately patterned on the fabric. _"No, I don't know if I loved you."_

Akechi is an unwanted child. He was a curse since birth – a living scandal to his father, a shackle to his mother. That is a fact. It is here, now, that he focuses on Hinata's fingers when they suddenly clench even against the sharp edges of his gauntlets. The bones scrape as Hinata's eyes blaze out of her rotting face.

"Of course I do," Hinata replies with her teeth clenched. "You don't have to keep asking me. I just…"

"And he loves you back," Akechi replies, as he slowly pulls Hinata up. She manages to stand, unsteady, as Akechi continues. "Whatever fault you think you've done, I forgive you, Hinata-san. Don't let Shido win, don't let Shion grow up without the loving mother that you are. Come back to the surface with me."

"It's not that easy," Hinata replies, shuddering. Another slip of her rotten flesh falls off and fades into the water, and Akechi breaks into a wry smile.

"It's never easy. But I'll be here this time if you need me."

He feels the gleaming edge of a blade ready to strike at the back of his mind, of a compassion so encompassing it judges without bias. His bond with Justice burns in his mind with the unrelenting heat of the sun.

Akechi doesn't take the Treasure – he knows that the moment he does, the Palace may crumble. Hinata takes her own Treasure in her hand instead, a photo book of some kind, as Akechi continues to hold onto her other hand.

A golden thread slowly shimmers into existence between them, a golden strand that leads straight upwards right above their joined hands, and both Akechi and Hinata grasp it. Slowly, the thread rises, pulling them up with it as if they were weightless.

The very next second, the whole Palace is shaken with a large _boom._ Something heavy landing on the floor above them, and the thread pulling them shakes as if something violently tugged it before it's suddenly still again. The small opening of the well straight above them is suddenly easy to see, as shadows of flames and light and lightning shine from a battle that's begun.

"I'm scared," Hinata whispers, looking above as another thunderous footstep shakes the water, the prison, the very Palace itself.

They're not beating Hinata's Shadow trying to steal the evil in her heart. Her distortion is one of deep self-loathing, of oppression and disempowerment from Shido.

To steal her Treasure only addresses half the problem.

The other half lay in her seeing Shido's monstrous cognition lay defeated. That he is not so omnipotent after all.

A voice in his mind calls. It is a deep voice, strong and shockingly gentle.

_Have you faced your hypocrisy?_

They rise to the surface and feel the water churn and shake around them. Someone's shadow nearly stumbles into the well before quickly recovering, leaping back into the fray.

_Have you learnt that justice can be demanded, can be heard, can be created, but can never truly realised by one who is clouded by hate and rage, by a heart that closes itself against the world? A warped heart begets nothing but false distortions._

Akechi closes his eyes. He feels the edge of another power, brimming with fire and light.

He thinks to that small part of his soul that he doesn't think he can make the right choice all the time. That he is still learning. But he can make a promise, Akechi thinks with one of his hands twined with golden thread, that he won't stop fighting to find the right answer. He won't lose himself.

Is that good enough, he thinks in a kind of challenge, fist clenching. He can't promise anything more.

 _Yes,_ the voice laughs with growing strength. _That is enough. Join me! In a world of debatable good and controversial evil, justice is clarity! Form a vow with me, you who fights for truth in a world of deception!_

Akechi opens his eyes the moment they breach the surface. The golden thread is still rising into a shattered cathedral. The ceiling is no more, its remnants cluttering the arena that the Thieves fought, revealing the hanging red moon far above them. The golden thread rises beyond that, piercing the darkness, the moon, the clouds above that, as if it came from Heaven itself.

**"You will not escape!"**

Something bellows in front of them, a coiling sinuous leg tries to strike out at them the moment they rise fully out of the water, but Ann's whip flies out and catches it with a cry of 'No you don't!' She tugs the whip and successfully blocks the attack from reaching them, but Ann's hasty counterattack as she rips the mask off her face with one hand fails to land, her Agilao flying to the side. The Shadow's leg swings and swings Ann with it, landing heavily next to Yusuke who was waiting in reserve.

"Panther's fainted!" Yusuke calls, already digging into his bag to find a revive, while Makoto shouts.

"That's bad! Masa is going to regenerate the elemental shield any second! We need all the elements to fully break it! Fox, replace – too late!"

Just as Makoto calls, the full Cognition of Shido appears, some sort of pulpy spider whose legs have multiple joints that allow it to bend unnaturally. Its massive bulk drags against the floor of the cathedral, Shido's leering face set deep into the thing's neck as thick mandibles clicking above his sneer. He rises to his back legs and _screeches._

**"No one can touch me, for I am above all of you!"**

"Shields are back up! Time to counterattack!" Futaba's voice echoes from somewhere high above. Four gems start glowing on the cognitive Shido's back, and Akira had already been in mid-leap to land on one that shines blue. _"Bufudyne!"_

 _"Zionga!"_ Ryuji calls, directing the lightning strike to shatter another one of the gems, and Morgana quickly follows suit, having been climbing one of the legs with great difficulty.

_"Garula!"_

"Panther, wake up!" Makoto is shaking a woozy Ann, who is only just blinking awake. Even though Shido had been stunned for a second every time the gem broke on his back, the red gem shines brightly as Shido ignores the three on his back, his eight eyes shining at seeing the golden thread.

 **"Do you think your petty hopes can save you?"** Shido sneers, dragging himself forward, the mandibles gleaming sharp in the red moonlight as he tries to swing his head to cut it. **"You've already sold your chance of salvation long ago!"**

They are high enough now, to see above Shido's head.

"Hinata-san, I'm going to let go now," Akechi says, detangling the thread from around his gauntlets, looking down while calculating the distance. The mandibles snap closer to them, and Akechi reaches upwards. He climbs, hand over hand, before he takes a deep breath in and swings forward, up and over the mandibles that immediately snap upwards, trying to catch him in the air.

In the moment that he is in the air, the voice speaks.

_I am the Archangel of Justice and Fairness, Vengeance and Redemption! Join me, so your blade never dulls in your never-ending battle, so your spirit never wanes! Call my name!_

"Raguel!" Akechi yells even as he feels Morrigan's armour melting away for something smoother, softer. Something falls into his hand, an elegant white cane with a sharp tip, something that he immediately uses to leverage himself to swing onto Shido's back and onto the red gem. The heavy feather mantle is replaced by something that falls with a flap of cloth as Akechi stabs the cane deep and shouts. _"Agidyne!"_

Raguel flares his six wings, white with tips edged in flaming red as he turns his Grecian profile downwards. His flowing robes reflect the gold of his own flaming hair, falling down his shoulders as the sword he is holding gleams in red steel. The pillar of flame falls at his command

The gem shatters underneath him, and Shido collapses right before his charge towards the thread succeeds.

"Now!" Akira commands. _"Megaton Raid!"_

 _"Deathbound!"_ Ryuji yells immediately after, while Morgana seems too low on health to attack, ripping his mask off with a shout of _'Mediarama!'_ instead.

 _"Megaton Raid!"_ Akechi yells alongside them, as Shido groans under all their attacks, shape dented and smoking as he deflated. The Thieves had lowered his health much more than he'd thought – it seems like the battle is already over.

 **"No, how can it be?"** Shido asks, eight eyes riveted on Hinata, who had continued her slow rise upwards on the thread. **"You should have no power to even think about escape! I crushed you! I made you break!"**

In response, Hinata holds the thread tighter in her hands. There's a look of stubbornness on her face as she rises up.

Then, the very gesture a dismissal, she looks away from Shido to look upwards.

 **"How dare you dismiss me!"** The cognition rages even as it dies. **"I am the greater than you! I am the mighty Masayo…"**

It collapses into a heap before it disintegrates into dust, while Morgana has long bounded towards Akechi, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Multiple Personas, just like Joker?" Morgana gawks. "I never even thought – was that your awakening? Is that why you're wearing that now? But wait, Joker never changes his clothing when he switches Personas…"

Akechi takes a moment to look at himself. Judging by the seams and the cloth, this costume is more modern than his other two. The cane in his hand is elegant, a flawless white with a dangerous uncapped tip, the handle shaped with the decoration of feathers. When he looks down, he is wearing a suit, sharply cut and elegant, with a tie in a gentle dove grey and his accessories silver. The coat is the only thing that seems to be slightly less official, hanging off his shoulders in a surprisingly secure way seeing as his arms weren't threaded through the sleeves.

The mask over his face, when he feels it, seems to be made of the same silver and white theme that Raguel manifested as, filigreed with delicate patterns that he couldn't truly appreciate with his fingers.

"That was _so cool!_ I'd always wanted to see a live magical girl transformation mid-battle!" Futaba launches herself out of her Persona next to him in excitement, and Akechi turns to her with a deadpan look. "Aw, don't look at me like that, Crow! You look like some sort of official now or something, or some hoity-toity gentleman you know!"

"Before we say anything else, let's check on Hinata-san," Akechi cuts through the throng of curious faces around him. "She still has the Treasure we're trying to steal. We can talk later, alongside everything else."

The Thieves all shuffle back up to the entrance, where Hinata stands waiting for them.

She's staring up at the red moon, the leering eyes that still peer at them, following them, despite the high walls overlooking the pit.

"Are you here to steal my heart now?" Hinata turns with a small smile at them when they arrive. "I don't think you need to steal it from me. I'll freely give it to you all. Thank you."

Hinata's Shadow bows deeply at them, offering her Treasure with two hands. The photo album is heavy in his hands when Akira steps up to take it, promptly plonking it into Akechi's hands.

"Taking that away means that this distorted place will fall, right?" Hinata asks through hollowed cheeks. "Does that mean it'll cure me forever? That sadness won't come again?"

Her gaze wanders to the eyes again, who only glare back.

"No, Hinata-san," Akechi replies when no-one else does. "There's no cure like that in the world. But I promise that I will reach out to you in the real world so that your heart never think the world as Hell again."

Hinata's Shadow smile turns into a wider one. It's beautiful in its sincere hope, and a small laugh leaks through.

"I'll hold you to that Akechi-kun."

The Palace starts crumbling, and Hinata waves at them from within it with her smile never fading. Soon they are back in front of Hinata's apartment, to the sound of crows squawking as they flew into the red sunset.

**Tower Rank 7 – Hinata Osumi**

  


* * *

  


"Is that it?" Akechi hears someone whisper. Someone else sighs.

"I hope her heart changes and she feels happy again."

Akechi feels the thread of Raguel in his mind, warm and bright and steels his determination.

"Futaba," he says as he turns. "You mentioned last time that you met Aigis, that there are many people who are interested in meeting me. Are you referring to Kirijo Group?"

Futaba turns and blinks.

"O-oh yeah, I did say that. I've been, uh, hiding that I've gotten involved with the Metaverse from them you know, but what's up?"

"I need to meet Mitsuru Kirijo," Akechi replies shortly. Futaba's eyes widen before she glances at the apartment building next to them and she nods to herself.

"Okay, I can connect you to them on one condition. You have to join the Phantom Thieves. Officially!" Futaba demands, leaning forward. "No more slyly slinking off or going behind our backs or not waiting for us in Palaces! You have to tell the truth too, to all of us! Okay? We discussed it yesterday when you ditched us, so you had no say when we unanimously agreed that we want you to be a member!"

She's obviously gearing for a fight, so it's mildly humorous to Akechi that she's caught flat-footed when he simply nods.

"Arrange the meeting with Mitsuru Kirijo, and I will join the Phantom Thieves right now."

In the moment when Futaba's smile lights up in ecstatic glee, the corners of Akira's mouth curling up. When Ryuji is gearing up for a cheer and Ann is starting to hug Makoto in happiness, the world stops.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Judgment** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shevcha drew a beautiful piece of art that was so wonderfully atmospheric - it's the scene of Akira and Morgana listening to his cancer announcement and I was like my kokoro. it's amazing, thank you very much, shevcha! I'm so glad you smacked me with the link when I nearly missed it, I would've hated not seeing it ^^  
> https://twitter.com/yescking/status/1316438955693400070?s=19
> 
> JGameCartoonFan drew a comic panel of Wakaba's rescue from alll the way back in chapter 13(ish) and man, you guys are drawing art that tugs on my heart-strings. The expressions are all on point and I really feel that defeat in Akechi's body-language - thank you so much! I really liked it hehe  
> https://ibb.co/3mPzcr6
> 
> Mnovam is drawing a whole series of portraits for all of the OCs here and I was like OWO. Atsuzawa looks lovely and stern to hide the dork he is within and every single WIP is amazing. Thank you so much, Mnovam! I have no idea about what to say except that you're wonderful. ^^  
> https://dollamyart.tumblr.com/post/635094152935342080/attempt-at-a-neutral-portrait-of-atsuzawa-from-the
> 
> oof, hello! Thank you for all your kudos and comments last chapter! And for being so patient with me. November has been... OOF. In addition to the deadlines I predicted would be @_@, my mother lost a close friend, my boss met a family tragedy, and things were quite stressful for a bit. And then to make things wonderful my health took a bit of a dive (it's more an inconvenience than anything since i just worked through it) but bleh. Bad things do come in droves huh. Sorry for the chapter guys, I've been writing this chapter one paragraph at a time sometimes and i still feel iffy but I didn't want to drag it out another week - your reviews and constant support stopped me from giving up on november altogether hahaha - so here you go! I hope it was still ok. 
> 
> I'll have fun wrapping up Hinata's social link as other factors start coming into play. I'm trying to not make this fic too long since we're only halfwayish. The Phantom Thieves are gonna be in full force now ^^. I've always wanted to read a Goro friendship with ALL the thieves and exploring how that'd even work, and my answer was man, he has to develop a heck lot before anything can happen so here's about time! at chap 40. took a bit.
> 
> someone was like, 'i wonder if the new persona is feather-themed too' and i was like 'ANGELS ARE QUITE FEATHERY YES' so here you go. literally avenging angel akechi because i, i just needed to ok *cough. akira was a little overwhelmed
> 
> next chapter - Futaba is going to spirit channel a koala one of these days she swears. Mitsuru finally meets Mysterious Lad (TM) and they swap facts. Jose is @_@ and also *-* and drops bombs like normal. The main issue here is that I did p3, p4, p5 and bit of p2 and played none of the bridging games uwu so time to wiki a lot i guess HAHAHA. For those who're interested, I posted the second short to thoughts and things a few weeks back. It adds a little background to Saito, a few odds and ends. Nothing that serious, but hopefully nice fun. See you guys hopefully in a week+1/2! December please be better than november uwu


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! There was a lot of art last chapter, so I'm putting it up here :D
> 
> I missed this from many chapters ago - my greatest apologies! Aquavintage drew all the missing Rank 10s in Akechi's life and :,). Akechi misses them too, in a place he's not thinking about. Thank you so much!  
> https://mobile.twitter.com/te_haitch/status/1316372980126023680  
> JGameCartoonFan drew a short comic based on chapter 17 when Akechi and Akira swapped numbers. Your art is so cute (and they're so cute and awkward aah). Your art is as evocative as always, JGame ^^  
> https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/777938822683033604/782856754450006066/Screenshot_2020-11-30_003122.png  
> Aishin drew a beautiful Akechi in his radiant white Raguel gentleman outfit and he's so cute and adorable and uwu >__<. Thank you, Aishin! I just imagine Akechi descending like that in front of Akira and he's just a big O_O mood haha  
> https://bitteraishin.tumblr.com/post/636346830255489025/fanart-for-marigolds-mahou-shoujo  
> Dragon_Overlord_Yuu drew Raguel Akechi being a classy gentleman - I can imagine Akechi stylishly walking down the street holding his cane like that, ahaha. Thank you so much!  
> https://twitter.com/starrycosmicyuu/status/1333972648368410626?s=20  
> noname_nonartist drew Morrigan and Raguel's costumes and they look so distinct and magnificent. Thank you so much, noname, your art is amazing - I like what you did with the closed and open poses XD.  
> https://noname-nonartist.tumblr.com/post/639438006516957184/i-just-recently-just-finished-reading-an-amazing
> 
> From discord:  
> no-name_nonartist drew a comic panel of the scene where Wakaba is launching herself at Robin Hood for SCIENCE  
> https://noname-nonartist.tumblr.com/post/640091570870304768/a-sketchy-mini-comic-based-on-wakabas-rank-5  
> As well as the scene where Akira is vowing to himself after some revelations ins chapter 29  
> https://noname-nonartist.tumblr.com/post/639900870821265408/a-colored-sketch-inspired-by-a-scene-in-chapter-29  
> You're an amazing artist - your colouring is amazing and their expressions are so vivid. Thank you so much!

Akechi opens Hinata's Treasure when he reaches his dormitory. He shrugs off his shoes, hangs his jacket and sits at his desk after drawing the curtains tightly closed. Ignoring the constant pings on his phone from the newly added Phantom Thief chat, he opens the photobook. It's aged but well-kept, the pages only slightly yellowed on the edges.

When he opens it, he's greeted with childish handwriting on the first page, alongside a photograph of Hinata when she was small. She's wearing a poofy dress holding a home-made baton with a wonky star stuck on top, and the text underneath simply says 'FAIRY PRINCESS' in careful, wonkily traced kanji.

When Akechi flips it through, it's obvious that this is some sort of photo-diary that Hinata has kept for a long time, all depicting some sort of personal triumph, or cut-outs from magazines that caught the eye. Models, brands, friends, all with little notes underneath with handwriting that grows clean, legible, and then sloppy after the handwriting has been perfected.

Akechi closes it after skimming a few more pages.

It's a book of dreams, Akechi thinks with an unnameable emotion in his chest. It's who Hinata had been since she was a child. The person that Shido had stamped down and torn away from her, never able to gain back.

Akechi thinks of his mother and the girly dresses she always chose. Ribbons, lace, cute ties and romance novels tucked into the corners of their apartment. Her optimism until the end that Shido wasn't the bastard that he was, and the wreck she became when reality became undeniable.

(He thinks of Robin styled like a hero, the duster he always pretended was a sword because he was Red one day, Green the next, in his apartment that sometimes held the laughter of two.)

He huffs out an empty laugh.

Perhaps it's one of Shido's many talents to know just where to hurt someone the most.

The air-conditioning starts up again in a cold breeze that brushes the top of his notebooks placed on the top shelf. Cool air that settles gently down, moving his curtains slightly in the breeze. The world is dark except for the small pool of light from his desk lamp and the occasional flashing notifications from his personal phone that sometimes still flicker across his screen.

Just like any change of heart, it'll take time for Hinata's heart to fully adjust. The Thieves had been all too happy to explain that to him, that everyone's heart was different, and he shouldn't stress about it changing immediately. That they'd take turns to monitor Hinata's progress, that she was important to them too now and—

Akechi's face is blank as he carefully tucks Hinata's Treasure in the midst of a stack of textbooks, one thin math exercise book drooping over its shape in the middle of the pile so nothing seems out of the ordinary. He lets his mind listen to the quiet of the evening, as he takes the time to take a quick shower and arrange his books for school tomorrow. The Treasure does nothing but, perhaps, strengthen his resolve for the coming trial ahead.

Honesty has done him no favours in the past. Countless people have changed their views, expectations, and treatment of him the moment he implied anything about his lack of family, his class as a social outsider.

From what he knows of Mitsuru Kirijo, masks will do nothing to endear him to her.

That night, he prepares to sleep after reading the four blinking contacts on his phone.

The first is a simple message from Akira, as his are wont to be. It's accompanied by a picture of a delicate twist of apple blossoms.

[Akira: Take care of yourself. I can tell them to lay off if they're getting too much.]

[Akira: Tell me when your schedule is free.]

[Akechi: Thank you for your consideration, Akira. Have a good rest as well.]

The next chat is still wildly typing even as he taps on it.

[Futaba: Mitsuru said it's ok to meet up any time!]

[Futaba: That's actually really generous of her, wow. Like, I've seen her schedule you know, and it's packed to the brim, but she's also waited a long, long time to talk to you because of that Minato guy.]

[Futaba: I still don't know the full story on that, about the Dark Hour and why it's linked to Kirijo and stuff because when I tried to dig too deep Lucia blocked me, and I respect my hacker-senpai too much to destroy her work :/]

[Futaba: She's not even a jerk I can vent on like she's so nice when I asked her for cracking tips I just felt bad.]

[GA: Tell Mitsuru Kirijo I am free tomorrow evening, and to arrange a discreet meeting place that she places full trust upon.]

[Futaba: …And done! She'll contact you directly, she says. BTW reply to the Thieves chat already, we're trying to agree on a place to celebrate! Inari just wants to eat a large buffet, which is lame, so you have to back me up on that Featherman Popup Café okay?]

[Futaba: You gotta promise! There's a limited signed placemat on offer if you buy a set meal, but it's a one in eight chance so I need a big group of friends to guarantee I get it!]

[Futaba: *we get it]

[Futaba: Oh, and you have to sit down and tell us everything ok]

[Futaba: Akira has been practising his coffee really hard lately. I think he wants to impress you since Inari has no taste buds and thinks even Akira's weird self-style brew is great and Ryuji doesn't like it, and Ann kind of likes it but doesn't care enough to be a big connoisseur about it, Makoto drinks it for the caffeine and I only drink my coffee with curry and sometimes I just want a soda and Mona's a cat, and you're the only one who seems like the type of nerd to critique coffee types and beans and pouring technique so yeah! When is that happening?]

[Futaba: After tomorrow, obviously, but we should set a date.]

[Futaba: Because you're slippery fishy fish]

[Futaba: Oh man, tomorrow huh. You have to tell me the deets! Even now Mitsuru kinda has a step-on-me-queen feeling and I'm all for that when it's not like 3D and real]

[Futaba: She's really nice though, don't worry, she just has shark vibes if you get what I mean.]

[Futaba: And Morgana said that you guys met a new Persona user too when he ran away, right? He said she was your friend and I got really curious so I looked through all the options and it's that Okumura heiress right?]

[Futaba: You there? I see the read icon you know.] 

[Futaba: ...Hey, don't ignore me!]

[Futaba: Hmph, if it's like this, don't underestimate two whole years worth of repressed memeage!]

After a blocking war where Akechi repeatedly tried to block Futaba's chat during 'sleep times' and the chat repeatedly unblocking itself with slews of cat memes, Akechi gave up on the effort and silenced his phone altogether to look at the rest.

[Haru: Oh my, so you're saying that I can meet with the Thieves soon?]

[Haru: Mona-chan asked… Akira-kun, was it? To message me saying he's safe back home and that he wants me to meet the rest of the group as a burgeoning Persona user.]

[Haru: I admit it's rather exciting! Mona told me all about how the Thieves steal hearts, with the codenames and powers. I've been trying to think of a good codename all day. If I may ask, will you be there?]

[Akechi: Yes, I'll be there, Haru-san. The Thieves will help you think of a codename if you haven't settled on any by the date.]

[Haru: How wonderful! I'll look forward to it, Akechi-kun.]

[Haru: Sweet dreams!]

The last one was a familiar number with no name.

**Change of target. Yuma Ishida ASAP.**

The file attached is relatively small this time when he opens the document and scrolls. Yuma Ishida is a retired government official with sharp eyes and stern chin, the portrait his last official photograph before his retirement in a suit and tie. He stands tall with his two hands on a cane and was apparently the Minister for Foreign Affairs before he stood down in 2012 because of ongoing health issues.

It's not the first time Shido has asked Akechi to change the target abruptly. Sometimes it's an obvious whim or power play, something to satisfy Shido's craving to rob the rights and lives of those who oppose him.

Retired government officials like these were relatively rare, but if some lingering influence had influenced Shido's plans, Shido was the type to prefer the absolute security of Akechi's methods.

It's a quick search with the app this time. Yuma Ishida doesn't even have a Palace – his name resonates with Mementos.

Akechi doesn't bother wondering what Yuma Ishida may have done to deserve Shido's ire. He merely saves the information, takes note of his background. Tries to link his name to other victims of Shido, active members of the conspiracy, before he stares at the small network of names and tucks it secretly away for Fusa the next time he is available.

[Akechi: It'll be done by the end of the week.]

He places the phone down, tired to the bone. Palaces don't affect him that heavily after his rebirth, and usually he still has the energy to study a bit more, or maybe read a novel to distract himself but – Akechi doesn't glance at where Hinata's Treasure is hidden, and he hides the parts of himself that are still raw, parts he doesn't want to particularly think about.

There's a small blip, and Futaba's chat icon blinks. The phone heats up before her chat quiets for a second.

In another room, Futaba listens to Akira and Morgana in LeBlanc after Sojiro has come home. Akira isn't as scary now that she's talked to him – he's kind of awesome, actually, safe-feeling even though he was walked in that too-cool way she always avoided at school. He's always patient with her, even when she's basically sobbed on his shoulder talking about her mom and didn't even complain when she gripped his hand hard enough to bruise that one time he went with her to Akiba to go to that live signing with Mahou Shoujo Mamiko's director.

"Akira, are you sure?" Morgana is asking to the sound of Akira making coffee, the gentle sound of the drip and soft clinking glass. "I don't deny that Akechi definitely isn't a bad guy but… We might be getting over our head here."

The encryption that the mysterious message had was hard to crack, and Futaba's eyes roved over what her program rolled out for her on the screen as she focused on Akira's response. Maybe GA will tell everyone his secrets, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to get to it _early._

"He's been over his head alone until now," is Akira's simple response.

"That's true," Morgana replies pensively. "And he's one of your closest friends, right? If anything does happen—"

"I'll be there," Akira cuts in with quiet intensity. "Just like he was there for me."

Morgana makes a sound that's a mix between a sigh of exasperation and fondness.

"Not just you. I'll be there with you as well, through thick and thin." Morgana replies with a grin in his voice. "We'll save him from whatever it is, me and you and all the Thieves."

"Thanks Morgana," Akira replies with a smile in his voice, and Morgana purrs against a head scratch. Futaba curses to herself silently when her program crashes midway through tracing the mysterious encryption on Akechi's phone to whoever it came from. It might take a few more days of dedicated work to get through to whatever that was hiding, but Futaba had already seen enough just by tracking the keys on GA's phone when he typed and looking through the attachment.

[Futaba: :( ]

[Futaba: We're going to help you, GA.]  


* * *

  
School is a place of respite. It's a mind-numbing routine, easy enough to paste a smile on his face and go through exercises as if they were difficult. He gets a question wrong in class, but it's waved off by the teacher with a smile on his face and some laughter from the class that even the perfect 'Goro Akechi' can have some off days.

A girl offers him a bottle of water at lunch, saying that he looked a little tired. Akechi refuses with a laugh that he's laughed a thousand times – light, charming, and the girl's concern is easily brushed away as he excuses himself to the library.

"Studying has taken a back seat lately," he chuckles ruefully, brushing some hair behind his ear in a way that he knows draws attention to his eyes. "I need to take any chance I get to study, or I might struggle to get into the university I want!"

The study cubicle he settles himself hides the message he reads from an unknown number. There's a picture of a map with a certain street corner circled, and the message underneath is short and to the point.

[Shinjuku. 6 in the evening. Affirmative?]

[GA: Affirmative.]

He begs off early from the Police station with a concerned frown from Sae and melds into the black and red of the surface of Mementos to travel towards the spot indicated. Their meeting place is a part of the older backstreets, lined with concrete buildings decorated only by dried drips of excess air-conditioning and dirt accumulated over the years. Akechi reappears on a lonely curve of the street, distant from any late-night hubbub the main causeways had. A lone street light shines at the end, failing to keep the world from melding back into darkness.

The clock ticks towards six.

Akechi is drafting this absence to Shido in his mind as a report already (this time was used, he'll say, to investigate Yuma Ishida's Palace) when there's an echoing sound that disrupts the peace of the street for the first time. He steps backwards just in case, the shadows ample enough for him to stand in relative secrecy with a finger on the Metaverse app.

A single headlight turns the corner.

It's in front of him seconds later with its lone rider, who parks in front of their agreed spot and pauses as she looks around.

Mitsuru Kirijo appears in the purr of well-tended engines and clothed entirely in black leather, taking off her helmet with a heavy tumble of red hair. Her presence is like a knife, keen and too sharp for a simple paper pusher. Akechi doesn't even need to shift half a step forward before Mitsuru's gaze snaps to his location.

"Goro Akechi, I presume," Mitsuru says, tone measured and controlled. Her voice lies a hint of an accent – though not enough to truly inflect her Japanese in any significant way. Although her face is stern, there's a softness there that surprises Akechi when he steps forward with his own expression carefully controlled. The restrained smile on Mitsuru's face is something calm and placid when she turns to greet him with a small dip of her head. It's an expression Akechi has seen on his own face one too many times. Conciliatory, diplomatic.

"Yes. And you must be Mitsuru Kirijo."

Mitsuru dips her head, elegant even while straddling her beast of a motorcycle.

"Well met. Shall we go somewhere more secure?"

Akechi doesn't move immediately. He's carefully observing Mitsuru, and she lets him while doing the same. There is no sign of that puff of hubris he's seen in so many of the rich he's met lurking in Mitsuru Kirijo's demeanour. There's a determined kindness in her expression, one that brooks no-nonsense. Wealth and power can so easily diminish a person, especially with the passage of time but…

Perhaps he should have expected this from Minato's friend. His Empress Arcana. The girl he had spoken of with a warm smile as he recounted her promise with him. Who he had spoken of with pride, as he detailed her life by the years, the possibilities that branched in her futures.

Mitsuru Kirijo was destined for greatness like few in life were. She was fated to overcome the pain in her life by staring at it in the eye, taking life by the horns and dragging it forward towards the ends _she_ wished to achieve. Mitsuru existed as a phantom in his mind made entirely by Minato's nostalgia-tainted descriptions, and it doesn't seem real when she decides that they have spent enough time sizing each other up and tosses a helmet to Akechi. She motions him closer to the seat behind her.

"There are handles for you to grasp if you are uncomfortable with touching a stranger," Mitsuru says, gesturing at the catches in question before settling back down. "The summer heat should be enough for you to feel refreshed rather than a chill when we ride, but if you feel cold I have a jacket packed."

Her tone is no-nonsense and matter of fact, and when Akechi slings his own legs behind her carefully and holds the handles tight, Mitsuru nods.

"Ready," is all she says, before she twists the throttle and the motorcycle shoots off in a shockingly smooth acceleration. Warm Tokyo air transforms into a cool breeze as they shoot towards the brighter coloured neon of the main streets, weaving between cars as they followed lines of yellow and white streetlights that lead to wider and wider roads. The rectangular squares of office buildings and shopping centres and apartments in all shades of blue and yellow and white that blur around them as speed limits increase and Mitsuru doesn't care to glance any way but straight as she heads straight for the highway.

Akechi keeps his eyes open. To track where they're going of course, but also to watch the slim back in front of him as they speed towards their destination. They don't say a word, even as Mitsuru finally turns off the twists of highways and tunnels for somewhere near the edge of Tokyo. She starts slowing down near that are more spacious than boxed apartments, with houses that sprawl with traditional high gates and property walls that stretch down at least half of the well-kept streets. A pocket of affluence, as Mitsuru turns her motorcycle into the parking area in front of a two-storey teahouse that seems ageless in its décor.

Small, nondescript, but well kept. There's an inviting warm light spilling out from frosted glass windows as Mitsuru motions for Akechi to get off first, before she swings herself down. Akechi had heard of this teahouse when he still ran his food blog and kept an ear for popular places in Tokyo. Yumeji Teahouse was nearly a phantom to visit – somewhere only the elite with old connections, massive wealth, or on the years-long waiting list could enter, and he looks at Mitsuru again, hiding his thoughts.

Is it a power play? An expression of sincerity? A demonstration of her resources?

Mitsuru takes off her helmet with a flourish and smiles at Akechi. It's the same diplomatic smile. "You can be assured of their discretion here," Mitsuru explains as Akechi takes off his own helmet. "No matter what we share today, it will be kept to the two of us."

"…I'll take your word for it, Kirijo-san."

"Call me Mitsuru," she says in a firm request as they step inside a well-kept lobby. It's serene inside, and the waiting hostess doesn't hesitate to bow from where she stands next to a large ikebana display of summer blooms.

"Honoured guests, this way," the hostess smiles. She doesn't say more. Her eyes don't linger on either of them as they're quietly lead to a room down several corridors of paper doors and polished corridors. They go to the back, where despite the warm lighting from paper lanterns and grand ikebana displays of twisted dahlias and tulips and artfully twisted branches, it was silent except the sound of a trickling water stream somewhere nearby.

In the distance, there is a clear echo of hollow bamboo clacking against stone.

"Please," the hostess slides open the door to a tea-room that overlooks the back garden with a rippling pool that reflected a silver sliver of moon.

Mitsuru sweeps in and settles at the low lacquered tea-table and Akechi follows suit to sit in seiza. The hostess doesn't wait – an assistant comes in to set up tea and snacks with elegant efficiency before shuffling backwards and sliding the paper door closed. 

"...I admit that I have waited a long time for this moment, Akechi-kun," Mitsuru breaks the silence first, taking a delicate sip of tea after taking a long appreciative breath of the aroma. "Aigis would have been here too, but Futaba's message found us quite unexpectedly. There had been no warning she was taking strides in finding you until she messaged us about her new circumstances, and Aigis is unfortunately in the depths of Europe with Akihiko." 

Mitsuru's cordial as she speaks, eyes never truly stopping her observation of him, and when she sees something in his face she smiles faintly. Satisfaction. 

"So you do recognise their names." 

"Mitsuru-san, I come with a request," Akechi states to break her control of the conversation, sitting straight. His gaze is firm, and Mitsuru replies with a smile of silk wrapped steel. 

"I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't have shown yourself. You hid yourself so completely that when your identity was revealed to us, I couldn't help but marvel how you hid right under our very noses. Goro Akechi, the Second Coming of the Detective Prince. I had noticed something odd about your public persona, but I regret now that I didn't follow my instincts." 

Akechi frowns slightly. "Odd?" He questions. No-one had ever stated that to him before. Even if he slipped, Shido was extremely particular about his public image. Pedantic, almost, like how he kept any of the cards grasped close to his chest, and Mitsuru's laugh is a low rolling thing. 

"You're obviously very different from your public persona, Akechi-kun," Mitsuru says. "I've been told that you enjoy a nice game of chess. Would you indulge me a game while we have our conversation?" 

Mitsuru barely has to raise her voice before one of the assistants slides the door open and brings in an elegantly trimmed box. It's placed on the table beside them before the assistant slides back out. 

"We'll want privacy from now on," Mitsuru says to her. The assistant nods with a small bow and slides the door closed. 

"I'm surprised," Akechi says conversationally when he watches Mitsuru set up the pieces. He nods slightly at white when Mitsuru indicates which colour, before setting up the board. "I would have thought you wanted an exchange of information right away, considering what you think I know." 

"You're not wrong," Mitsuru agrees, indicating him to move first. He moves a white pawn forward in a nondescript step, and Mitsuru immediately follows by mirroring him with her black pawn. "I will be upfront. Kirijo Group has had no progress in the matter you may hold the key to solving, and every one of us in SEES will do any and all we can to drive our project to free Minato from his burden without negative consequences." 

Mitsuru seems keen on mirroring his moves – when he moves his knights, Mitsuru's black knights follow. It's only when he advances one of his bishops does Mitsuru take her first step, advancing a pawn in the middle in preparation for defence. 

"So you will be amenable to my request then," Akechi states as he moves another pawn forward, and Mitsuru hums as she nudges a bishop diagonal. Akechi pauses at the move, thinking. 

"Of course, provided you give us all that you know. I, Mitsuru Kirijo, will never contribute any stains to the Kirijo name. I can promise that without hesitation, and I will uphold any agreement we make with honour." 

Mitsuru's eyes gain a cast of interest when Akechi takes the opportunity, castling his rook and his king for the opportunity of greater manoeuvrability. 

"But that is merely an exchange, Akechi-kun," Mitsuru says as she moves her other bishop forward next to her other one. "And we both know that I can offer much more than a mere exchange." 

Mitsuru's smile is calm – hasn't flickered even once as she waits for Akechi to make the next move. She, Akechi thinks, ate people for a living. Some people had that atmosphere of power in all their gestures no matter how small, and Mitsuru Kirijo is coiled and smooth-talking and elegant, smile inviting and eyes ready to _win._

Akechi gives her his own bland smile, sidestepping the unspoken request and finishes the preparation for his rook, moving it the last step to where he wanted it to be. 

"What do you mean by my role as the Second Coming of the Detective Prince 'odd', Mitsuru-san?" 

Her pawn captures the first piece of the game – one of his own pawns. 

"To explain this, I will make a simple analogy. Naoto Shirogane, the First Detective Prince, gained fame because she solved a string of cases at a young age, with the media honing in on her lineage as a fifth-generation detective of the esteemed Shirogane family," Mitsuru says conversationally. They are both pretending to watch the board. "These are matters of fact." 

Akechi takes the capturing pawn with his knight, and Mitsuru castles her own rook and king without taking the opportunity to kill the knight when it's vulnerable. 

"The Shiroganes are famous for their tradition as detectives who work closely with the police," Akechi agrees as he advances his bishop to kill the threat. 

Mitsuru captures his bishop immediately. The area is well-defended, so Akechi advances his other bishop on the other side to the immediate defence of one of Mitsuru's pawns. 

"Indeed, the Shiroganes, however, were private eyes – they weren't police detectives. I have the pleasure of knowing Naoto personally, and she has frequently discussed with me the difficulty of working with the police force as a private detective. It's hard work to coordinate with a force that is set in their ways, and even well-regarded detectives have difficulties in getting their opinions valued." 

"What has this got to do with my oddness as the Second Coming of the Detective Prince?" Akechi asks as he's forced to move his bishop backwards to avoid the pawn. Mitsuru smiles as she moves her bishop next to her Queen. 

"Unlike Naoto, Akechi-kun, you are part of the official police force. The police, who have a whole sector dedicated to PR and community relations, whose obligations to confidentiality and reputation are far more rigorous than a private eye. Why would they trust their image to a mere intern? Not only that, unlike Naoto's Shirogane legacy, you are an orphan, and instead of solving a string of cases before becoming famous, your success as a detective grew _after_ you gained media attention." 

As Akechi advances his Queen, Mitsuru pulls back her knight. It provides Akechi with the opportunity to capture her bishop directly. However, Mitsuru simply captures the bishop in return with the rook she'd prepared beforehand. 

"This is something I noticed after I thought about your situation. Akechi-kun, it's not strange that you attracted attention the way you did. Even I saw the news when you saved your colleague from death," Mitsuru smiles as she replies the advancement of his rook by opening her Queen to the board by moving it to the side. Akechi moves his threatened pawn in defence as Mitsuru continues to advance her Queen. 

Akechi has always played chess more aggressively than Akira. He likes advancing, pushing boundaries, challenging people to react. 

Akira was a good opponent in that way – his reactions had always been novel. While Akechi saw the chessboard and fought to _win_ , Akira saw the board as a potential to explore all of its possibilities. Wins were only fun if he could test out creative and unpredictable strategies, pulling out different approaches every time with a flair for the unexpected. 

Mitsuru, instead, moved her pieces with the deliberation and unreadable poise as she continued her attack. 

"It not strange you attracted attention – it strange that you had the opportunity to grow as you did, being with someone with no background or resources to keep gaining such large entertainment headlines. It is stranger still that the police force allowed it. Which leads me to a conclusion," Mitsuru says as she advances the knight she had retreated a few moves before to threaten a cluster on his side of the field. "Akechi-kun, we had long concluded that Wakaba Ishikki's attacker was related to the government. However, with the addition of yourself, it seems this conspiracy also extends to our police force. Perhaps, with how the comatose patients are dealt… the legal system as well." 

"Did you, perhaps, think before that the police were merely incompetent?" Akechi smiles as he captures her advancing knight with his own immediately. 

"There were no signs otherwise," Mitsuru allows as she captures his knight with her awaiting pawn. 

"Then I did my job well," Akechi smiles a little wider. There's no-one left to capture Mitsuru's piece, so he focuses on another part of the board, defending against her bishop when she moves it in position to threaten his back rank. Aggressive plays, Akechi thinks as he narrows his eyes, forced to move his King in defence. 

"Akechi-kun," Mitsuru changes the topic. "We are both public figures, and I doubt someone as intelligent as you didn't try your best to know who I am before meeting me. Perhaps even before then," Mitsuru says as she smirks when Akechi takes her Queen for with his own. "You recognised Ken quickly enough to counter our tracking." 

"Minato described all of you to me," Akechi merely states as Mitsuru moves her rook and captures his Queen in return. "But yes, I did research you, Mitsuru Kirijo. The Heiress turned newest CEO of Kirijo Group could have been very different from the friend Minato had once known." 

Mitsuru's eyes soften. 

"It has been… many years since our times with Minato," Mitsuru concedes, the bishop cradled in her hand for a moment before she puts it down. "Has it been nearly seven years? Far too long for anyone's liking," she murmurs as Akechi moves his own rook forward another step. "But for you to have trepidations over our meeting only means you acknowledge the potential aid I can give you." 

"Why can't an information exchange suffice, Mitsuru-san?" Akechi asks as Mitsuru advances a bishop so that he retreated his knight. "It seems you have already established contact with Futaba Sakura on an ongoing basis – with her as an intermediary, we can have an exchange at any time." 

"That is simple," Mitsuru replies. "I know your type, Akechi-kun. Building trust with you will take time that you may not have, and I have a personal stake… You could say a sense of responsibility in matters that deal with Shadows and Personas. Therefore, it is critical I broach this topic to you at once, so that you understand that you have free reign to Kirijo's resources while you start engaging that trust. I would rather that," she says seriously as she shifts her king, "than such an aspiring young man be crushed under the foot of fiends who would use ignorance, youth, and their talents to their own ends because he didn't have critical resources at his disposal that I could easily dispend." 

"You would trust me so easily?" Akechi asks, and Mitsuru's smile is a wry one. 

"Trust is too strong of a word when we have yet to exchange information. However, for now, we had largely concluded that the malignant force is unlikely to be you. So this is what I propose." 

Mitsuru looks at him, straight in the eye. 

"Goro Akechi, share all that you know. About Minato, and how you met him. Not only that, but the current Metaverse issue within Tokyo, and how this Leader of the Conspiracy ties into it. What is your role in the comas, and any proof to demonstrate your status. Proof can come in time – I will take your word as the truth for now. In return, I, Mitsuru Kirijo, will guarantee your requests to a reasonable degree, including reciprocal information, resources ranging from financial to materials—" 

"And safeguarding a person under threat?" Akechi cuts in quietly. 

Mitsuru doesn't miss a beat. 

"And that as well. You have my word." 

Their game continues as Akechi descends into silence. True, thoughtful silence that Mitsuru immediately catches on. She doesn't interrupt, as they focus on their next move. 

Another table, another deal. Air-conditioning in an ostentatious apartment over the glittering skyline of Tokyo. A luxurious teahouse overlooking a serene pond reading the other through a game of chess. 

Another immensely powerful person who, in a sense, is arguably as powerful as Shido. Masayoshi Shido is near unparalleled in the Japanese Cabinet now, but Kirijo was a household name throughout the world. 

Akechi has made a lot of mistakes in his two lives. One of them was to chase Shido's shadow until the end. The other was to rely on Loki, knowing that Loki grew strong from hate and throwing himself into it, made himself crazy over it, drove himself Berserk over and over and over to kill people that he knew, deep in his heart, were less and less evil, and more and more innocent. He made a mistake to make killing a habit, a past-time, a mundane thing as casual as going to dinner. 

In those last moments, the Phantom Thieves had been all too ready to protect him from himself. Even those he had done irreparable harm to had spoken up to him in, if not sympathy, at least acknowledgment. He could have easily taken two steps forward before shooting the emergency button for the bulkhead door, leaving his Cognitive self trapped alongside all his Shadow allies. 

But he didn't. 

The moment he felt regret tinge his soul – the moment he acknowledged that the Thieves, that someone as untouchable as _Akira_ , truly would take him in as one of their own – he was irredeemable. He had decided that he was irredeemable. Someone like him didn't deserve to be around people like the Thieves. To acknowledge wrong was to acknowledge that he had known he was doing wrong all this time, and how could he ask to be forgiven for matters he himself hadn't been able to ever overcome? 

He had looked at the line between the Thieves and himself. He saw a future where he stayed with the Thieves, joined their happy, sappy, friendship-is-power group. Saw Haru and Futaba never warming up, but never rejecting him either, saw Akira gladly lending him an ear whenever it was asked for. He saw them taking down Shido together, fulfilling his wish, before somehow moving onto a future filled with hope and perhaps redemption – and then placed that future and weighed himself on a scale. He judged his own worthiness and found himself wanting. 

And so he chose death. 

A death that held Minato, who had eyes that never blinked until he remembered to. Whose voice resonated inside an Akechi that hadn't wanted to listen, telling him stories of how beautiful life could be even though Minato lived a life of isolation far from everything he cherished and protected. 

Where Akechi had chosen a death fuelled by a selfish desire for repentance, Minato had chosen death because he didn't wish death to touch those he loved. 

They both disagreed with the other. Akechi had told Minato that his sacrifice was foolish, for has he seen the majority of humanity's foolishness? Their ugliness a poison, their society a shambling mess staggering towards inevitable pitfalls and destruction that would never be fixed in time but easily foreseen. His hope, Akechi practically spat, was a mistake. 

Minato told Akechi to cherish his life with a smile in his eye. 

He told Akechi that he was just as beautiful as any other. 

_("How," Akechi had choked out, in a time where he had looked at the stars and universe around them for long enough that it felt like he was drowning in it, sank into the frozen pinpricks of light billions of years away, "when you know—"_

_"Even if you deny everything," Minato murmured quietly near his soul. They had laid down with their heads close enough to one another that if Minato had truly spoken with the softest, fleeting whisper Akechi could still have captured it, kept it from escaping into the vast darkness in front of them, "don't you think there's a beauty in how you fought – how you never gave up in your life, Goro?")_

Mitsuru Kirijo is observing Akechi with a hawk's gaze. Akechi merely dips his eyes to observe the chessboard in front of them. It had naturally developed into a draw. Akechi's pawns are perfectly arranged with his bishop in the middle perfecting his defence. There is no way Mitsuru can breakthrough – yet there was no place Akechi could safely intrude into Mitsuru's side of the board to claim her king either. A perfect stalemate. 

Minato had spoken of Mitsuru with warm fondness. Of her strength when she confronted tragedy, the sins that she had to bear on her back from previous generations. He spoke of how he helped her understand that choice was always within her grasp... And Akechi prides himself in reading others. 

The slim fingers, tapping the expensive lacquer of the traditional tea table in languid thoughtfulness, the rich shift of red hair as Mitsuru picks up her cup of tea to sip. 

He can recognise that Mitsuru is a completely different person than Shido. Akechi himself is different from that past self who rushed to clutch onto Shido's dangling lifelines as if they were true regard. 

The only reason why he would hesitate… 

Akechi's face twists. He breathes in. When he looks up, he sees the giant shadow of Kirijo in front of him, something too big to ever fight. Power, encapsulated in the silhouette of a woman that Minato had once been friends with.

Mitsuru, the girl who had always been driven by responsibility, duty, and righteousness. Who ate takoyaki with wonder, promised Minato motorcycle lessons, and something is burning the back of his throat. 

_She'll betray you._

_She'll betray you, like all the others._

_Agreements are made at the convenience of the other. When has power ever been treated correctly?_

A man with eyes that burn with conviction. A firm handshake on a sunny day.

_Spite him._

"Mitsuru-san," he practically spits out. His hands are clenched tight beneath the table. "I wish to trust you." 

Mitsuru's smile is solemn. 

"And I, you, Akechi-kun. So speak."  


* * *

  
Akechi speaks. He speaks of Masayoshi Shido, his electoral campaign, his reach, and how there is nothing that can truly stop him anymore except through judicial means, and Mitsuru immediately narrows her eyes. He mentions Wakaba and her role in creating the drug that creates comas. 

Mitsuru demands proof, so Akechi grits his teeth and agrees to send her both, as soon as possible, the notes and cases he's tucked away with Atsuzawa, with Fusa and his own observations, as well as a sample of the coma-drug and the drug to reawaken the comatose patients. He will send her the records of what he's been doing that he's been keeping meticulously, as well as his conclusions on what the Metaverse this time was like, and its nature. 

In return, Mitsuru promises safety for Hinata and Shion, and access to ten safe houses scattered around Tokyo, all fully furnished with contact lines that go straight through to herself or Aigis, who, Mitsuru says with a slightly wry tone, will come flying to his aid if he wishes it. Otherwise, she will contain herself, Mitsuru assures with a glint in her eye. When she hears his finances are tracked, she promises to send him an independent account with a deposit of a million yen, to be negotiated as necessary. She will share Kirijo's research – to be reviewed by both herself and Aigis first, for the sake of company secrets – but provide enough history for him to understand more about the nature of Wild Cards, the Metaverse, and other incidents. 

"I lied on Wakaba's report," Akechi states and Mitsuru stills to listen. "She has no relation to Minato. During that time, it was the only method I could think of to engage your aid while hiding my identity." 

Mitsuru nods. "I figured that may be one possibility. But even so, there would be no way for you to know about Minato and the Seal and write about it so explicitly without at least some contact. So how? Even Elizabeth stated that she failed to reach him in any meaningful way, and yet you—" 

Now that they had finally reached the main driver of the conversation, Mitsuru spoke with a little less of her usual decorum. 

"Minato spoke to me, about all of you." 

_"How?"_ Mitsuru demands, and Akechi provides her with the honest conclusion that he'd thought of. The only reason why someone like him could reach Minato, while the literal Ruler of Power, who could slay Erebus in one strike every year, who flit through the multiverses like it was a natural thing to do couldn't. 

Akechi looks at Mitsuru in the eye and says. 

"When I first entered the Metaverse, my Persona was weak, and I was all alone. Although I was a Wild Card who could wield more than one Persona, I didn't know it back then. The Shadows were too much for me when I entered the Palace," Akechi lies before he adds. 

"I believe I reached Minato because I died."  


* * *

  
Their conversation ends without much more fanfare, as they both finish the tea and leave with the polite hostess leading their way out. The moon is bright in the sky, and Mitsuru takes a long moment to stare at it before she throws the extra helmet at Akechi. 

"I'll provide you with additional details to our agreement for now through Futaba, as you requested. I'll try to help somewhat with your monitoring, but I'll have to first understand the scale of Masayoshi Shido's operations. The Shadow Operatives are currently crippled in Tokyo, with only a few key individuals managing to stay here, and Kirijo Group is a Corporation with no say in the Justice or Government spheres." 

"It's alright, Mitsuru-san," Akechi bows. "Let's settle the deal we currently have first." 

Mitsuru nods shortly, and Akechi holds the handlebars again as they tear back through into the depths of Tokyo. Melting into the Metaverse didn't bring Mitsuru along with him, and he goes back to his dorm with little fanfare. 

The next day has Mitsuru send over information packages as agreed through Futaba. Who, also to his expectation, combs through all of it and gives him commentary and immediately pings everyone on the Phantom Thief chat asking Akira to please, please please meet up today, please? 

When Akira sends him a private text with a question mark on it, Akechi massages his head and agrees. 

It makes sense to get everything over and done with. 

[Akechi: The LeBlanc Attic, yes?] 

[Akechi: I'll meet you all there.] 

"Holy crap!" That's the first thing that greets Akechi when he emerges from the Metaverse straight into Akira's attic. It's as sad of an affair as always – although large, Akira had only managed to make it home near the end of his year in Tokyo, with stickers of stars and souvenirs from all his friends. Ryuji Sakamoto jumps backwards from where he'd been uncomfortably close, as his surprise slowly transforms into a big grin as he promptly then slaps Akechi's shoulder hard. "Heya, Akechi! Don't scare me like that!" 

Akechi grimaces something akin to a smile. 

"It's not as if I knew you were standing there from the Metaverse." 

"Nice to see you too, Akechi!" Ann greets cheerfully from where she's sat on Akira's dingy sofa, a bag of sweets in her hand. "You know, it's always so strange to see you do that. I always thought that you could only exit the Metaverse and Palaces or whatever from where you entered." 

"…No," Akechi replied, somehow tired from all their attention already. Having Ryuji Sakamoto smiling at him will never stop being foreign. "I watched your infiltrations where I could, and haven't you and Yusuke already proven that wrong?" 

Ann blinks at that with her forehead scrunched, before Yusuke pipes up in the corner from where he'd been determinedly framing one of Akira's souvenirs. A small swan-boat – perhaps a keepsake from Inokashira Park. 

"Ah yes, when I first entered Madarame's Palace, we stumbled straight into Akira and Ryuji in the middle of their infiltration. I remember we exited alongside them at the Palace entrance, however." 

Ann nods. "Oh yeah, you're right! I forgot about that." 

Akechi barely manages not to roll his eyes before he plasters something neutral on his face. LeBlanc's door rings open with a cheerful yell from Futaba, a low greeting from Akira, followed by more sedate hellos from Makoto and Haru. 

"Oh, you're bringing another new friend, you two?" He hears Sojiro ask. Futaba giggles. 

"Yeah! Well, technically Haru is Morgana's friend." 

"The… cat?" 

"Yeah! You know how he disappeared for a while, Sojiro? Haru was the one who took care of him! And then we realised she also went to Shujin as well, and Akira is like, you know, the gayest lady charmer ever and he was like, want to be friends? And Haru said yes because she's too nice, so here we are!" 

Futaba's happy voice is cut off by a fond sigh from Sojiro. 

"You're in a good mood today. Well… Haru, is it? Is it true you took care of Morgana?" 

"Yes," Haru says politely, "that's right, Sakura-san. Everything else Futaba said isn't that inaccurate either. I'm only happy to join a new group of friends." 

"Well, you seem like a sweet girl," Sojiro says with an obvious grin. "Do you guys want coffee before you head upstairs to join the others?" 

"I love coffee," Haru says with enthusiasm, while Makoto also agrees politely. Futaba doesn't wait though, throwing an _'I'm going up now, Sojiro, bye for now!'_ before bounding up the stairs, taking no less than a second to scan the room before her eyes settle on Akechi. 

"You're here!" She exclaims, before proceeding to launch herself forward. Ryuji barely manages to dodge with a yelp of _'what the hell, Futaba?'_ , while Akechi is resigned as Futaba cheerfully claims the spot right next to him, squatting near the doorway in a curl instead of sitting on one of the perfectly fine chairs. "I'm glad you're here," Futaba says more to the hands that she's using to clutch her phone than to his face, and Ann laughs when Akira treks up the stairs himself to dump Morgana on the table in the middle and settle on the chair Akechi had been nudging Futaba to sit on. 

"Nice to see you finally here," Akira says, gives him a small quirk of the lips. Akechi actually rolls his eyes down at Akira, who only smiles a little wider. "Like my little piece of home?" 

"This attic?" Akechi replies a little dryly. "What, in particular, do you want me to start praising exactly?" 

He'd expect Akira to reply with something ridiculous like 'me', which is something he could actively imagine Akira saying (his past Akira, anyway, the one who had shed all the ridiculous pretences for something even more idiotic) when Haru and Makoto finally come up the stairs. 

"Guys, this is Haru," Morgana says with a proud tail swish. "She's the one I mentioned, who let me stay over at her house and saved me after I stumbled into her father's Palace. Haru, these are the Phantom Thieves! Well, you know Akira and Akechi now," Morgana waves at the two with a paw, and Haru beams at them both. "The rest of you guys, introduce yourselves!" 

The group goes around in a circle – Ann friendly, Yusuke perfunctory, Ryuji boasting that he could be his Metaverse senpai if she needed it. Futaba says that Haru knows her already, so she doesn't have to say her name again. Makoto rolls her eyes at them and tells Haru not to mind. Haru just giggles. 

"It's lovely to meet you all," Haru bows to the group with her smile wide. "I'm so glad to see you have all reconciled." 

"Ah yeah," Ryuji scratches his head sheepishly. "We've gotten over it now, really. Sorry for draggin' you into it." 

"No, there's nothing happier for me than to see all of you are back together again," Haru shakes her head. "Although Mona-chan recommended me to join the Phantom Thieves, I don't actually have a fully awakened Persona yet. I'm afraid I might drag you all down." 

"You've gotta believe in yourself, Haru!" Morgana says encouragingly. "I see a lot of great potential in you. Our team is just getting stronger by the day, with you and Akechi joining us at once! And anyway," Morgana settles down a little, ear drooping. "Akechi said a few things to me when we were infiltrating together. I think having you on the team will really help." 

"Oh? What is it?" Haru says in surprise. 

The Thieves, practically in tandem, look to Akechi. 

"Finally," Futaba sighs, before poking him on the shin. "It's time to spill, GA. You promised!" 

It's finally time. 

It's strange, to reach that vague stage in his initial plans back when he first arrived in the past. 

Integrate himself into the Thieves. Start guiding their path to crush Shido. 

"…Perhaps it will be better just to show you," Akechi says. He glances at Akira, and Akira nods without hesitation. "Very well then," Akechi sighs. "Let's go into Mementos."  


* * *

  
"The Conspiracy involves many high-level individuals in all sectors of society," Akechi says as he leads them down the familiar red corridors of the first few levels of Mementos. Morrigan comes comfortably over his skin, though Raguel and Robin Hood were both ever at the ready. "You may recognise some of the names." 

He rattles off the names of the IT President, a few politicians Shido has in his pocket, the Director of one of the national television channels, the SIU Director and a few more. Many of these names don't mean anything to the Thieves – Ryuji, in particular, looked confused at all of them – but Makoto and Haru gasped at a key few. 

"The key operator of this whole Conspiracy is Masayoshi Shido," Akechi introduces dryly as he stops in front of Wakaba's Mementos Room. He has her name on search permanently on his phone, and navigating to her room – no matter where it randomly appears – has become familiar by now. "If any one of you follows politics, you will know he is one of the key candidates for this year's election." 

"Masa… Hinata's Masa-san is Masayoshi Shido?" Makoto immediately links the two together, before she then makes the second connection. "Wait, you're Masayoshi Shido's son?!" 

"Bastard son, yes," Akechi replies, voice light. "I'm a living scandal waiting to happen, but I'm also far too useful as an individual because of my power to enter the Metaverse for him. Please step through, if you please." 

As one, the Phantom Thieves step into Wakaba's Shadow room. 

It's changed a lot, throughout the years. Akechi had hung a large sheet over the back hole of the room leading to who knows where, and the three tables laden with Wakaba's equipment was filled with compounds and chemicals and water that he lugged into this place every few months or so. The pile of trash he'd always meant to give Akira has grown into a monstrosity that's on Wakaba's side of the room, sectioned off. The generator and the lamps still work – Wakaba had invested in high-quality ones – and Akechi walks towards the tables and picks up his latest batch of coma-inducing drugs from the bench. 

"So this is where all of mom's equipment went," Futaba murmurs, eyes wide. "She gave it all to you, didn't she?" 

"Yes," Akechi nods, pocketing a sample for Mitsuru and preparing one injection for today. "She knew I wouldn't have the means to create the drug with her gone, and we both knew the level of danger she was in by the time she finished. This was… an unexpected gift." 

"Mom could enter the Metaverse? Wait, wait, no. If she did, mom would never use someone else's – is this her room? Her Shadow's Room, I mean?" 

"The screen you chose to section this room is quite beautiful," Yusuke chooses to comment right at the second Futaba bounds over to the other side and stare at how he'd tucked Wakaba under blankets on top of a futon, glasses folded neatly beside her pillow. 

"She hasn't moved in all the years I've been here," Akechi tells her, and Futaba just blinks. Blinks again, biting her lip and tilting her head forward so her hair hides her face. 

"She's just a Shadow, you know. You didn't need to do all this," she says. 

"It's not as if I wanted to," Akechi replies dryly, tucking the prepared shot of comatising agent into his bag. "It's just awkward to see her collapsed on the floor for years on end." 

"Sure," Futaba mutters. "You know, I really want to hug you right now." 

"Please don't," Akechi replies just as quickly. He eyes the size of the trash mountain and refrains from mentioning it to Akira for now. He wants to get this over and done with. "Let's move on. The main reason why the Conspiracy exists is to push Shido to win the election for Prime Minister. The Conspiracy members believe that once Shido is the Prime Minister, he'll shower them with benefits. It's a Conspiracy that is motivated by selfish gain, though Shido spins it otherwise." 

"What the hell? So Oracle's mom, Osumi-san, and your brother – he does things like that just for fun?" 

"That's horrible," Ann mutters. "And just like Kamoshida, no-one's stopping him." 

"My sister is working directly underneath the SIU Director," Makoto bites out angrily. "He's playing my sis as a fool." 

It's Haru that narrows her eyes. 

"Wait, you mentioned to Mona-chan that it was important for me to be in the Thieves. It's not only because my Father has a Palace, is it?" 

Yuma Ishida's room isn't far from Wakaba. He must be a person without much distortion at all, and Akechi steps through the portal to greet the man's Shadow. 

It matches the photograph he was given. Sharp features, small man. He's wearing a suit even in Mementos, grasping a cane tight in his hands. Akechi's become a good hand at it now – and he leaps forward before the Shadow even has time to register their presence, grabs the Shadow by the collar and jabs the needle straight into his neck. 

He holds the needle still for a few more seconds before the Shadow's yellow eyes start to flutter shut. Soon, Akechi's laying the Shadow's body flat on the floor. 

"This is what I do for Shido. By giving comas to Shadows, their cognitive self, people also fall into comas in the outside world. That's the great secret behind the coma cases. He sells these services for profit sometimes," Akechi glances up and makes eye contact with Haru, who is starting to shake her head in denial. "One of his biggest clients is your father, Haru-san." 

"No, my father would never—" 

"I can show you some past files I've gotten. Some of your father's competitors, who have mysteriously disappeared. I can search up their names in Mementos for you, or find their frozen Palaces so you can see for your own eyes, Haru-san." 

"Is-is this why?" Haru replies, fingers clenching tight into her sleeves. Makoto has wound an arm around her shoulders, eyes hard behind her steel mask. 

"No," Akechi cuts in, looking back down at the Shadow lying at his feet. "I'm not telling you this because I want to hurt you, Haru-san. I just want you to know that he might be the next target if we don't do something soon." 

That sharpens Haru right up. 

"My father's life is in danger?" 

"I previously mentioned that the whole cause behind the Conspiracy is to make Masayoshi Shido, the Mastermind, the Prime Minister. The Mastermind, who doesn't mind using his teenage son as a hitman, wanted to murder Wakaba Ishikki because she was merely in the way, and ruined Hinata Osumi's life for fun. Kunikazu Okumura is currently enjoying the benefits of being in Shido's Conspiracy as a major sponsor, but he's becoming a little too cocky." 

Akechi laughs a little bitterly. 

"Imagine what someone as petty as Shido would do to someone who betrays him. Better yet, betrays him to directly oppose him. Haven't you heard what Kunikazu Okumura is trying to do lately?" 

Haru's face pales. 

"He's trying to run for election." 

Akechi's smile runs pleasantly across his face. 

"Bingo. Congratulations, Haru-san. You've unravelled the mystery."  


* * *

  
"Are you alright, Akira?" 

A dream again, Akira thinks. But it's of no surprise, when he thinks of the revelations they just had – the Phantom Thieves shocked to muteness. Of Haru, whose face was tensed and white, frowning as Akechi lead them back out of Mementos but still managing to smile at everyone when she waved goodbye. Akechi had called her foolish when she did it to him, and Haru merely laughed back before leaving. 

The person in front of him now in this dream… 

Haru Okumura's smile is kind on her face, her hair slightly longer than what he'd seen when she had met them, nervousness in her shoulders washed away in this older version. Her hair is still loose about her shoulders, thin enough that the slight breeze from the open window shifts shining strands in the sunlight that they're currently sitting in. They're in her room in her refurbished café, the attic room made comfortable by a hefty renovation that fit large windows to the east and the west. They're hanging with stained glass wind chimes that swing with gentle tinkles, a backdrop to the cheerful noise of customers and cheerful staff floating up from downstairs as they served the last surge of lunch hour. 

It's obvious that this café is Haru's safe zone, where she comes to relax. Colourful thick rugs cover parts of a dark timber floor, shelves upon shelves of teas, books, and collectibles are tastefully placed around the room. Her colourful teapot collection with displayed cups, the beanbags where Akira sits on and Haru has comfortably curled into. There's a whole rack of succulents in tiny pots right next to Akira, with all different kinds of leaves and buds and flowers. The little eccentric odds and ends of Haru's personality that peeks through when she's in front of friends are fully on display in this private break-space, and Akira's eyes stay on the display case where Haru has carefully placed all the gifts and souvenirs the Thieves have ever got her. 

The chain of the not-nearly a thousand cranes the Thieves tried to make for her that time needed surgery for her appendix, some more than a little wonky hanging in the corner. Little figures of random mythological creatures inspired by Personas from that sculpting phase Yusuke had gone through two years ago when he was madly gifting them whenever he had the chance. A series of painted fans with wishes scribbled on them that Haru had bought on a trip with Makoto, Ann and Futaba, the handwriting on them hardly legible on the folds. 

And past that… 

There's a slightly large frame behind it, a group effort from Ryuji, Akira and Morgana. It's a small collage of photographs that they had snipped and pasted onto a piece of A4 paper. There are moments that they all remember together – Makoto and Haru's graduation photo, Ryuji winning his first 100-metre sprint. Haru's café opening, Ann invited as a key runway model. Yusuke, exhibiting in Rome for the first time, Futaba inviting the Thieves to her lab. Makoto, officially inducted into the Police Force, Akira getting his Bachelors finally in hand. 

In all of them were all the Thieves, in one way or another, cheering whoever it was on. 

In most of them, Morgana had paws on Akira's shoulder, voice bright in his ear. He can still remember what he said, sometimes. Morgana's yowls joining the Thieves started cheering when Ann walked down the runway, his complaints when Futaba wrapped him up so that cat fur wouldn't get anywhere as they toured her lab and its 'very expensive equipment!' 

The one taken in their last New Years didn't have Morgana in the bag slung over Akira's shoulder. In fact, Akira didn't bring a bag at all – he was more than used to travelling light, with only his wallet and phone in his pocket and not much else. 

"Akira…" Haru said, her voice as gentle as always when she spoke to her friends. Akira has seen her harsh, of course – she's gained an edge in the years that have passed, her backbone reinforced into one of shrewd steel as she navigated the waters of being the major stockholder and Director to a multinational business. But to the Thieves, Haru remains the girl she cradles with nostalgic protectiveness, and its soft fingers that land on Akira's arm, that grips with deceptive strength as she insists again. "Are you alright?" 

Akira finds it easy to say pithy remarks. Short, sweet. Mostly to the point. He can't find anything to say that won't sound like half a joke. 

"Please know that you don't have to answer me if you don't wish to," Haru says, tucking her legs more comfortably under her as she moves to look at what Akira is seeing, and her face softens. "Though you never really share your thoughts to us when it matters, Akira. You know we're here for you, whenever you need it, right?" 

"Of course I know," Akira replies, voice low, and Haru's laugh is a light one that falls silent all too quickly. 

"Is Morgana alright?" She asks, facing the elephant directly, and Akira looks up to his friend. Her clear brown eyes, and how her fingers now twine tightly with his own in a way that is nothing but a show of friendly support, and he swallows. 

"He's with Futaba right now. He… couldn't walk, since yesterday." 

"Oh dear," Haru breathes out, forehead creased in worry. "That's…" 

They both fall silent then, as they both mire themselves in thoughts of their friend fighting a struggle that seemed more impossible by the day. It's impossible to pick Morgana up now, without some sort of hiss of pain even when Akira is trying his best to avoid all his tender spots, the joints that are more suspiciously swollen than the others, and Akira scratches his chin because nowhere else is safe. Puts the best sushi on Morgana's plate for it to be left uneaten except for a few token bites. 

Akira doesn't deal with loss well. For him to cradle Morgana in his arms as he picks him up from the vet's table, for them to be in the waiting room and see Morgana's big, blue eyes and hearing him say, "I'm worried for you, Joker." 

Out of the two, Morgana was the chatty one, and for Morgana to be worried only meant that even he saw what was inevitably coming. It had taken almost all of Akira's strength to not react when Morgana had slowly rolled onto his side on the pillow next to Akira's head last night. Akira was feigning sleep when he felt a soft paw pad on his cheek. 

Morgana was close enough for him to hear Morgana grumbles to himself all too clearly, about how annoying the pain was, urgh, he wanted to eat sushi even if he can't stomach it, but also to hear him mumble, "you're a dumbass, Joker. With me gone, are you going to reach out properly?" 

For Morgana to keep that tiny paw on his cheekbone as he sighed. "He still has that pot of marigolds on his balcony. Hey, your greatest strength and weakness is that you care too much, you know? Don't cling to the what-ifs too much, you hear me? But what am I saying to a sleeping guy? Man, I can't sleep because it hurts too much…" 

"If only I didn't need to fly over to Germany to settle the deal there," Haru says with a frown on her face. "Then I can be here for you and Morgana if anything happens." 

It's adulthood, Akira doesn't say out loud. Everyone's growing up and even if they aren't growing apart, at least their lives were unfurling in different directions. Akira's choice of occupation is only coincidental in the way that he's also successfully the group's rock, never really needing to move as he's still finishing off the last bit of his thesis. There is nothing to it, except acceptance. 

Haru misreads his silence. 

"Please don't worry, Akira! The business deal isn't that urgent – it's just that I need to make sure with my own eyes that Okumura Foods isn't slacking on any quality control standards we could be adhering too. I'll be back in Japan as soon as I can!" Haru reassures, and Akira breaks into a small smile. 

"I know," he replies with a tumble of laughter that rolls up the staircase from a group of clients, maybe, the smell of a fresh batch of chocolate cookies wafting up alongside it. He takes a look at his friend, the shadows under her eyes and the large stack of files and documents that are poorly hidden underneath a lamp across the room and swallows what he wants to say. "Make sure you don't overwork yourself, Haru." 

"Everyone's been telling me that lately," Haru replies with a rueful laugh, reaching for a cup of tea on a small side table. She offers it to Akira, who accepts the cup, before pouring another for herself. "It's very hard to take it easy when the market is fluctuating like crazy because of what America is doing right now, and Europe is being too ambiguous with who they want to support that it has me on tenterhooks on how to proceed from here. It's affecting our predictions on our supply costs, to say the least," Haru huffs out as she takes a sip, and Akira settles into the skin of someone more familiar. 

"You'll rise above it again," Akira says with the absolute confidence of one who has watched Haru shout down a whole table of arguing executives, slamming the table and demanding solutions instead of inter-company politics, and Haru gives him an angelic smile. 

"Thank you for your support, Akira. Please understand that I truly believe that you and Morgana… No. I believe that we will all be alright. Everyone says that time heals, but to be honest, I think it washes things away rather than heal." Haru smiles pensively down at the teacup in her hands, slender fingers tracing delicate golden filigree. "Like a river, almost, washing away old pieces of yourself as you walk against a current, taking with it urgent feelings and pain away. Important matters never become less important, but they do lose a certain lustre. Lose some… immediacy." 

Haru turns and twists one hand with his again, squeezing their fingers tight. 

"I know that losing a family member is a horrible matter. I know that I can't be here for you as often as I'd like, but message me any time. Whether it's about Morgana, or yourself, or anything else." 

"I already do," Akira replies, squeezing her hand back, and Haru smiles wistfully at him. 

"You don't do it enough." 

That night, he's settled his extra futon in the living room so that he can keep a better eye on Morgana, having pushed away his coffee table to the corner with a bunch of books. From the floor like this, the moon shines brightly down at them both. In the back of his mind, he notes that Morgana's black fur doesn't gleam with the nearly wet sheen it used to have when he was healthy, now a bit more patchy and dry. 

But it's rare that he can sleep so well, and Akira treasures this silence as he strokes Morgana gently. He looks past the glass doors of the balcony, past the shadows of his pots and stares at the moon. The angle has the pot of marigolds perfectly silhouetted, a keepsake that shows just how sentimental he is to those that he cares for, and his eyes burn because no-one is around. 

He doesn't want… The world is already so beautiful, full of potential, filled with a future and friends and a life to be lived and so echoingly empty— 

And Akira bends, curling over, hand stilling on patchy fur. 

He _wishes_ from the bottom of his heart. 

(The week later, autumn winds blow as he goes to university. Morgana has stayed for a few days at Futaba's at his own request, and Akira already misses him. He's leaving campus, the world in yellows and reds and shifting into the chill of winter when he sees a certain silhouette at the school gates, as shocked as he is. Someone that shouldn't be there, with all the years of regret behind them, and Akira—) 

Akira wakes up with a splitting headache, Sojiro calling him down for breakfast curry.  


* * *

  
[Hatake Tobe: Akechi, was your target this month a man called Yuma Ishida?] 

[Akechi: Yes. Is there an issue?] 

It takes a moment, long enough for the previous message to delete itself before the next message sends. 

[Hatake Tobe: No, it's fine.] 

[Hatake Tobe: We'll meet each other at Shido's party. Don't look for me – I'll be the one to contact you.] 

[Hatake Tobe: Be careful, Akechi.] 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mitsuru and Akechi's chess game was based on this great one in 1921 between Capablanca and Lasker which also ended in a draw: https://www.chessgames.com/perl/chessgame?gid=1241494. I ain't a chessmaster so if I said anything weird forgive me *cough.  
> Thank you for checking back, I hope this isn't weird or slow or anything. It's very plotty again (I had... too much fun writing Mitsuru my apologies) and now it's going into the PT arc! I'm excited for it hehe but also worried but @_@. Jose will be next week after all uwu. Akechi has a lot of mentors and positive influences right now, but there's something about having friends your own age that bridges loneliness in a different way, and Akechi can now build bridges where he failed to before. :,) With Hinata's Palace cleared so early, we have a lot of time to explore ranks and stuff.  
> I'm sure a lot of people have had suspicions cleared with Future/Past Akira's dream of what really happened with the deal he took.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos last chapter guys. ^^ and last week hehe. You guys give me a lot for encouragement and joy. Thank you:D
> 
> People have been mentioning they would like a discord, so I made one: https://discord.gg/SGJbwfSKjn  
> . I've been way more responsive on it than I expected, but I attribute that to the friendliness you guys have only demonstrated time and time again for the whole past year. I'll post a status update there, and I started a thread explaining some thoughts as I wrote the fic as someone suggested a few chapters back. Just be nice, have basic courtesy, and feel free to do whatever. I'll try my best to understand discord for you guys ^^'  
> I'll edit the chap throughout the week!


	42. Chapter 42

On July the ninth, Hinata wakes up and a little less tired than yesterday.

It's been a gradual process over a week, like something was clicking into place in her heart. Kind of like a gear in a rusty clock, slowly turning one cog at a time. The day before, she looked out the window without feeling like she was watched. Judged. She opened it and felt the summer sun on her face. Felt the Tokyo humidity which rushed into the apartment and looked up at a sun so bright that even when her eyes closed the reflection of the white paint from neighbouring buildings had burnt a fluorescent orange against her eyelids. The sounds of the city rushed in – of cars, somewhere distant, of the low hum of a city housing millions and millions of people all simultaneously living their lives together but independent. She saw birds fly from their perch on electric lines towards somewhere unknown across the city using the great, vast sky.

When she stuck her head out the window and breathed in – when she looked across the streets and didn't feel like she _shouldn't_ be – for some reason, she felt like crying.

She left the window open all day, despite the heat making her sweat and her shirt cling to her uncomfortably. Shion had stripped down to only wearing his nappy as he ran around the apartment, shrieking with a lot more joy than he'd had for the past few weeks when Hinata joined to chase him around the living room a few times.

Yesterday, she didn't need Shion's crying to drag herself out of bed. She wakes up before him instead and managed to catch her baby giving the cutest snort as he kicked his legs against the sides of his crib in his dreams. She has his food prepared by the time he's blinking awake, and he's happily spitting food everywhere as she tries to spoon it into his mouth and get it to stay.

Today, she feels like she can open the door.

It shouldn't be so difficult, she tells herself. Her hands are shaking and it's _pathetic,_ and Hinata wrenches her hand to the side and slams the door open, but it's such an effort it makes her feel winded when she looks out from her doorway and sees the railing she always sees. Apartment blocks this way too, there's nothing out of the ordinary. Her loud neighbour has already gone to work, and the other one has a night job. But thinking about it – heading outside, holding Shion to her hip, she doesn't feel scared.

Her lungs aren't seizing in anxiety at the thought of someone seeing her and _knowing_. Shion rubs his nose messily on her shoulder, and she shifts him a little – someone from down on the street sees them standing there, and Hinata doesn't immediately have the urge to turn away and hide because she's, she's ashamed (she _was_ ashamed) and…

This time, Hinata really does cry. She crouches down with Shion placed in front of her, and her hands are on his shoulders but she hides her head between her arms and cries into her knees. They're big, heaving, ugly sobs that she doesn't want anyone to see, but she can't help it.

Shion does a questioning burble before she feels him getting tensed up as well, ready to wail. Hinata immediately brings him close to hide her ugly crying face (Shion was always so sensitive to her moods and she, she wants him to be happy _always)_ , muttering nonsensical words that she hopes makes sense. Trying to say that for the first time in a long time, she went out and saw the world and thought that she wanted to step out, take a walk, say hello to someone she didn't know.

She stays outside for a few more seconds before going back into her apartment and locking the door behind her.

For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like a prison when she did so.

That night, she's eating some congee after feeding Shion as they both watch late night dramas on their old saggy couch when there's a knock on the door.

"Hello?" Someone on the other side of the door asks. It's the voice of a young man.

It's not a voice she recognises.

Hinata tenses, staring at the door. Shion is still riveted by the television – there's a western festival on the screen, and there's rainbow sparkles and feathers and all the things that Shion loves to watch – and Hinata quietly picks him up (he gives a cry of protest until Hinata shushes him and places him in his crib with his favourite toy), before closing the bedroom door and staring at the door again.

In another half a minute, the door knocks again.

"Excuse me, Osumi-san. I apologise for visiting so late, because I know it must feel a little weird. Will it help if I stated I visit on behalf of Akechi-san?"

Hinata's heart seizes in her chest.

The only people who knew that she had a connection with Akechi were Shido and Saito, and Saito didn't even know that she lived in this apartment.

She knew Akechi – knew the paranoia that lurked in his eyes because of the sheer necessity of doing so, in the circles he had to survive in. There was no way he would have trusted a stranger to visit for him.

"If," Hinata manages to say as she creeps closer to the door, and she's proud of how her voice seems steady and controlled. Powerful, instead of any sort of fearful, and it gives her a bolster. "If you're here to threaten me with Akechi-kun, I won't—"

"No, no no no!" the person on the other side immediately states. "Crap, why do I keep messing up these things? Uhh, will it help if I gave this to you? I'll just slide it under the door. Take as much time as you want, I really don't mind!"

What comes under the door is a letter.

On the letter itself, in familiar handwriting is:

_'To Hinata Osumi. Her eyes only. Goro Akechi.'_

Hinata picks it up from the shoe area and pulls out the letter from the envelope. The letter is written in formal Japanese, almost distant in its politeness.

'Hinata-san, 

To first prove that this letter is, indeed, written by me, I will recount a memory that only the two of us have. You once asked me if Shion was a mistake. I replied, in summary, while you lived in Ichigaya on a summer just like this, that it was your choice to make.

I write with the intent to apologise for not truly giving you the chance to present your story that night I confronted you. Shido takes joy in breaking others and using their isolation for his own gain. It was my actions that night that let him do so with each other. I do not regret easily, but I admit that I do regret that I let him win that night.

I will speak no more on that topic – the rest I hope I can speak to you in person, so I will move on.

Hinata-san, you and I both know that Shido is not a man who doesn't know his cards. All you need to know is that I am still useful to him, he suspects my loyalty, and he knows that you were effective once before.

Although I have a standing agreement that he has my cooperation if he does not threaten anyone near me, we both know how well an agreement like this will last if Shido truly wants something from me he does not think he will get.

This is why I thought of you when I managed to gain some allies that I trust. They have promised me that they will send an agent to you, who will help you settle down into safe accommodation with all adjustments made so that you and Shion can have a comfortable and independent life while keeping your identities secret. This includes employment if you wish.

This agreement holds until we have successfully dealt with Shido. After the fact, if you have adjusted to your new life and possible employment, you will be given the opportunity to keep everything you established while having the freedom to reach out to anyone you wish as Hinata Osumi again.

My apologies for this long letter, and for not being to be there for you in person. I know there is much to discuss, and I will try my best to meet with you soon. Otherwise, I can only hope you still trust me enough to follow that agent into a safer life.

Goro Akechi.' 

"Thank goodness it's not winter," Hinata can hear the person outside the door muttering to himself. It seems like the 'agent' they'd sent underestimated just how thin the doors were. "I'd be freezing to death if it was. She's probably reading it and not ignoring me, right? Oh man, I hope she's reading it. When do I even knock again?"

Hinata ignores that for now, carefully folding the letter up again and placing it back into the envelope.

As much as it was obvious that Akechi was being careful with his language, Hinata could still sense that characteristic kindness that she's learnt to associate from him. Words that always seemed a little older than his years, considering and patient.

She wonders from the tone of this letter if she can hope for forgiveness.

"Come on, Shion," Hinata says after she's wandered all around her apartment. She unhooked the photographs of Shion she printed from the wall and placed them in her large suitcase. The cushion covers she kind of liked, Shion's toys, clothes. Akechi's gift of cute cutlery for Shion. All the things she could stuff in she did, before she untucked Shion's long unused carrier and placed him in it, before stuffing the storage area on the carrier full of little things that she wanted to keep. Her diary, a few clippings she'd found the energy to snip.

When she opens the door laden with stuff, the man on the other side of the door looked like he was primed to knock on the door again.

"I'll just say I'm checking… Oh, hey!" The man brightens.

He's a pleasant looking young man, Hinata decides. Around her age, even, and she appreciates how the other doesn't even have one flicker of distaste or hesitation when he sees Shion. He bends down with a smile on his face, making a ridiculous face at him and laughing when Shion responds with a kick of his legs.

"You have a cute kid, Osumi-san," the man says with a friendly smile that lights up his eyes. Brown eyes, Hinata notes, with dyed hair. As much as Akechi had labelled him an 'agent', he just looks like any other trendy young adult she could pull off the street, with the headphones around his neck. "I see you're ready to go then? Can I help you with your suitcase at least, so you can push Shion comfortably?"

Hinata hands him her suitcase, and he waits as she takes a moment to lock the door behind her.

It feels strangely… final. Even though she only had enough belongings to fill a suitcase and a half, this apartment was still the very first place that she'd been able to pay for herself. It had still been safe.

"If there's anything you left behind, we can get it for you later," says the young man in a kind voice. "I'm sorry that I have to hurry us along though, now that we're standing outside. It wouldn't do us any good to be spotted by more than anyone necessary."

Hinata understands that at least, and she decisively pockets her keys and turns towards the elevator.

"Can I call Akechi-kun?" Hinata asks as they wait for the elevator to rise.

"I mean, I won't stop you?" The man replies with a scratch to the back of his head. "But I've heard from the grapevine that he might be busy tonight. If you're still suspicious of me though, I've been told that you're also friends with a woman called Saito. Apparently he left something there for you too, just in case."

"No, it's okay," Hinata replies after pursing her lips for a thought. At least she's the one pushing Shion she thinks as the man shuffles her towards a nondescript car parked on the street. After he hauled everything into the boot and opened the car door for her in a flourish, Hinata asks after he starts driving.

"Are you allowed to tell me your name?" Hinata asks.

The man claps a hand to his forehead.

"Oh right! I'm dumb. No, it's not like a large secret or anything. I'm Yosuke! Yosuke Hanamura, nice to meet you! I'll be helping you settle in for the next week or so at your new place. I've heard the general gist of your situation, and all I can say is that I'm sorry that happened to you. You'll be safe with us, don't worry."

Hinata smiles, tucking Shion closer to her.

"Nice to meet you too, Hanamura-san. Thank you for helping me."

Yosuke beams at that, opening his mouth to say something before closing it rapidly with a sheepish grin. He switches on the radio instead, letting the sound of the latest top twenty hits wash over them.

Watching the night flash by, feeling surreal after so many months of not even taking a step outside and now going suddenly, to somewhere new, Hinata wonders. About her sudden shift of heart. Of this new arrangement. Where she was going, on the unknown plans of a friendly stranger.

She wonders what Akechi is doing. She hopes he's doing well so that they could talk soon.

**Tower Rank 8 - Hinata Osumi**

  


* * *

  


_[To: 1234_

__

__

_You probably have already been notified, but I wish to state this personally as well. Your request has been done. The two you requested are safe, and are in trusted hands._

_Returning to the previous point, although the Kirijo Group cannot step into the political arena, that does not mean that politicians do not have weaknesses._

_The political arena in Japanese politics has always been tumultuous behind the scenes. Even now, Masayoshi Shido's move to split from the Liberal Co-Prosperity Party to form the United Future Party is but a common move to gain support separate from the strong foundations of the current party. The fight to be the major opposition has been the major movements of politics in the past decade._

_As with any major political move such as this, there must be opposition. By identifying which factions oppose Shido's political career, we can provide more information on the unsavoury details of his personal life. There is no need to delve deep into the Conspiracy just yet. We merely need to begin the investigative process by others better placed than we.]_

  


* * *

  


"He'll be alright, right?" Ann asks in LeBlanc. All the Thieves had stayed late on the pretence of studying, but none of them were really concentrating. Makoto had come stacked with study notes and plans, but even she had been discouraged when she saw how everyone was legitimately trying to study to distract themselves but fell short.

Haru sighs.

"I tried to ask my father if I could attend the party this time. Although he was pleasantly surprised that I wanted to actively network, he said this one was special and he couldn't bring me even if he wanted." She bites her lip. "This frustrates me, as someone who had previously supported Akechi-kun in situations like those before."

"What are those parties like?"

It's a surprising interjection. Even Haru, who has only known the Thieves for only a few short sessions, understands that Akira Kurusu was the type to remain silent unless necessary. Haru has always read a room well, even if she doesn't necessarily participate in it.

Akira is stoic as he continues to carefully pour his drip coffee. Haru wonders if Akira notices how all the Thieves always had some sort of open body language towards him, wherever he was. Ann, leaning forward on the elbow that let her see Akira at any time. Ryuji, who twists himself in his seat now and then to keep Akira into the conversation. Yusuke, sitting right in front of Akira at his bench seat, looking seriously down at something on his notepad. Makoto, legs crossed to face Akira, Morgana curling up so that his blue eyes could watch Akira's hands as they continued to pour coffee.

Akira must be very trusted, Haru thought, before remembering how Akira had been when Akechi had been in the room.

Hmm, Haru thought with a small smile.

"Yeah, that's what I've been wonderin' too," Ryuji admits a beat later. "Haru, what's with all these parties, anyway? Why was Akechi so mysterious about it?"

"I mean, he explained his plan to us," Ann interjects as she twirls a pencil between her fingers as she leans forward. "Something about making a deal with Shido to infiltrate the Thieves or something, but I think I only got half of it," she grimaces.

"He's basically brokering a deal with Shido to infiltrate the Phantom Thieves on his behalf," Makoto says clearly from where she'd focused on perfecting her Japanese Literature essay on the works of Osamu Dazai and the debate on its postmodernism. "If he succeeds, then he won't need to be cautious when he hangs out with us."

"This pressure… is this what Akechi deals with every day?" Yusuke asks no-one in particular, voice morose.

"Well," Ann starts, before pausing because she didn't know how to continue.

Haru clears her throat to break the solemn atmosphere.

"Well, answering your question. Akira. The parties where Akechi and I met were… to say the least, quite boring." Haru laughs gently at Ryuji's surprised face, delicately grasping the cup of coffee in front of her and taking a small sip. She carefully put it down so not even a clink is heard. "When the glamour of the night is merely an ornamental set piece so that the guests would be comfortable with brokering major deals and networking with others that they deem as powerful as they are, then everything becomes rather dull. I was there only because of father, and Akechi-kun was only there because, in retrospect, to get details for his tasks given by Shido. Otherwise, it's as you would imagine as any party for the rich and wealthy. Lots of canapes, food tables, drinks, dancing…"

"That sounds fun if it wasn't for all the corrupted stuff," Morgana says with a small yawn. "Well guys? Do you think you all finished enough homework to call it a night?"

"I'm pooped even before I look at my exercise sheets," Ryuji groaned, and Makoto sighs.

"Have you at least done one so I can check it for you?"

As Ryuji gave one worksheet to Makoto with a little cringe even before marking, Akira places the cup of drip coffee in front of Yusuke, who smiles.

"Thank you, Akira. I'm sure your coffee will work wonders with the worry that I hold in my mind." Yusuke takes a sip of it too soon, making a face when it burnt his tongue.

"Futaba said she's tracking him to hell and back, so even if something does happen we'll be there," Morgana says with a quick glance at Akira before glancing away again. "So let's get back to doing homework! Exams aren't going to beat themselves, after all."

"Well said," Makoto agrees with a nod. "Ryuji, you got these questions wrong…"

"I'll check on Futaba," Akira says to Morgana and Yusuke, who both nod understandingly. When Akira climbs the stairs, he sees Futaba lying on his bed with her feet kicking, earphones connected to her laptop.

"Ooh, Akira. I'm guessing you want to listen too? Come on, I think he's going to a juicy bit soon!"

Akira pads over and Futaba shuffles herself into more of an upright position so that Akira could sit next to her. Soon, with one earbud in an ear, they listened to the hubbub of a party. Akira can hear Goro's voice – there's a sound of something unfamiliar in its pleasantness.

It's cold, Akira realises as he closes his eyes to listen more intently. Goro sounds like splintered diamond where he's used to him careful, or fond, or sarcastic, or exasperated. All his inflections are sharp and pointed while spouting pleasantry after pleasantry at all the people he meets.

Futaba's fingers are flying – although this was recorded, she was already searching up the names that Goro was saying out loud. Her keyboard is loud but doesn't swamp any of what they're hearing is happening just a mere half a city away.

"GA said that he might meet an ally there," Futaba mutters to him in a quiet lull in conversation as Goro moved to another conversation partner. "And if he can he'll connect them to Kirijo, but he can't promise anything."

"Alright," he replies to Futaba, and she nods back before concentrating again when Akechi finds his next conversation partner.

_'Hello, Masumi-san, it's been a long time…'_

  


* * *

  


_[To: kirijosupport_

_Thank you for notifying me personally. I appreciate the consideration. Additionally, I understand the angle that you are seeking. You mean to leverage the power of the public to crush Shido and his movement._

_I will respond by saying that there is no one else more aware of his public image than Shido._

_Please see the attached documents that show three separate cases of journalists trying unearth Shido's Conspiracy. Although more have happened upon the Conspiracy, only these three managed to gain any concrete evidence._

_These journalists were reputable and originated from several different media outlets. In summary, all three have vanished and are currently counted as missing persons. One I know is currently mute and being treated in a mental hospital in Nagoya for extreme psychological trauma. The second I last heard from rumours that he'd been brought overseas on terms of blackmail. Even I haven't been able to find traces of the third._

_Scandals may be a detriment to any politician's career, and Shido knows it best. He has set up traps and dummies for each sector that he has illegal involvement, with people of some influence in his pocket in each major media distributor. Off the top of my head, I can list out three judges who will cooperate either because of blackmail or other benefits.]_

  


* * *

  


The hall that he enters with his golden invitation is high-class but not overly large. It's a private residence, decorated with gold engravings of various animals sitting around lakes filled with lilies and lotuses. The residence is grand and ostentatious, and Shido's Conspiracy members seem happy to be able to mingle in an atmosphere like this.

It seems like Shido has been busy. There are more than he expected in this room.

Most he remembers from faces that hang around in Shido's Palace. These are the members allowed into the restaurant and the upper deck with the pool, and Akechi recognises more and more faces as he wanders the room and greets the relevant ones by name.

After he had to explain why, exactly, he couldn't join Futaba for a livestreaming of Featherman Owl, the Reawakened Soul, Futaba had clutched his phone and told him that he had to have it with him always, and try to dig out more information when he was at it.

When another scan of the room doesn't reveal Fusa, he takes another glass of sparkling water from a waiter and smiles at yet another person.

If Futaba wanted more information, then she can have it.

A compliment on the brand of the woman's bag. A comment on how she'd left the arm of the man she'd come on that night. A sympathetic smile, and an offer of a glass of champagne.

She's delicately toeing the issues of her family issues in minutes.

It isn't a question whether Akechi is good at manipulation or not. He knows he is. He even thinks he has a knack for it, an accurate eye for how everyone went out presenting themselves in a way that expressed how they wished to be addressed. Whether it was through clothes, expression, gait, accessories or otherwise, it wasn't as if it was hard to mould his expressions and tone for a few minutes of interaction.

If his teachers, peers and fans wished to see his honest and pure smile, always talking about petty things like what his sweet tooth was hankering for that day, they'd get it. If Shido's associates looked down on a sweet, naïve boy, they would get a tinge of mockery in his smile, a small challenge in his eyes asking them _'did you fall for it as well?'_

If Shido's associates then laughed, chuckling over being let into this small secret. And when they asked how he fooled the world for so long with a small spark of interest, a bit of morbid curiosity, he'd reply this.

"I learnt from the best, of course," Akechi said with his most angelic smile. The one that crinkled the sides of his eyes, made his lips curve up pleasantly. The one that was deemed enough for even a front cover of a fashion magazine, the time they had a serial based on young professionals.

"Shido-san is quite a forward thinker," a goon he's speaking to now nods and agrees. Akechi recognises him because he shot his Shadow in the head in another life. The man in front of him is unsuspecting however, delving into Shido's latest exploit with enthusiasm. "Did you hear how he managed to convince another seat in Parliament to follow him? Apparently, Shido-san spread a rumour a few months ago about stock predictions for an import company, and his target took it! However, the stock price rose drastically for that company because it wasn't affected by that revision in our trading laws a month back, and Shido-san threatened the seat with collusion! We've strengthened our stance yet again, hahaha!"

Akechi laughs with him, mixing his laughter just a little softer than the other. The man in front of him had that bullish look of the sort of person who fought for dominance in the strangest of ways.

Faking submissiveness in all forms wasn't the hardest thing he's ever done.

"Shido-san truly is the best candidate to lead our movement," Akechi replies easily to the man as he eyes the rest of the hall.

(Still no Fusa.)

A passing group of people heard his comment on Shido's greatness and agreed enthusiastically at the idea. Soon, Akechi was joining in on a conversation where a bunch of Shido's goons were musing on who would be favoured next, trends in economics, global trade, how they would further exploit the flaws in Japanese financial law, and Akechi freely manipulated the topics so that he didn't state any opinion at all while carefully weeding out any useful information for Futaba's bugs to pick up.

Akechi had learnt from the best, but the best was not Shido.

Manipulation was a survival art. Everyone did it.

Laughs, smiles, frowns, flinches. Fear, desperation, apprehension, shyness. His greatest teacher existed all around him.

Few people cared to watch. Even fewer used what they observed.

"Akechi-kun!" The SIU Director came forward with a wide smile on his face. "Just the person I needed! I wished to get your feedback on a little something, you see," the SIU Director started. There's a little sweat on his brow and the ingratiating smile the Director only ever used when he wanted a favour or when he faced Shido.

Akechi gives him a light bow in return.

"Director, what's the matter?"

"You see, it's the issue with… Kaneshiro," the Director whispers, and Akechi's smile grows a few degrees warmer.

Was it time for Medjed already? Had Shido concocted the plan for the Thieves to take the fall for the coma incidents?

"I heard about the incident with him," Akechi turns to the Director with concern on his face. "Who would have thought those Phantom Thieves of Hearts would target someone with a reputation like Kaneshiro's?"

"Yes, well, Akechi-kun," the Director asks, a little hunched. "I was wondering if you could provide Shido with a status update on the matter with the Thieves. You see, my own, ah… contacts have failed me on the front of providing me with even proper investigative clues—"

"Do you mean to say that Shido-san hasn't approached you yet about the issue with Kaneshiro?" Akechi asked with a hint of true surprise. "That's highly unusual."

"Isn't it?" The Director immediately follows up. "Perhaps I didn't hear from him because he is extremely upset with me! If that's so, then I can only rely on a good word from you, Akechi-kun. Everyone knows how you have Shido's ear, so would you do me a favour in return for all the help I've always given you?"

"Of course," Akechi smiles even as his mind races. Kaneshiro's Change of Heart was barely a week ago. The news was still focusing on this sudden shift in character in the crime lord. Last time, Shido had contacted Akechi immediately with the Medjed plan, before calling the SIU Director to make it official. What could have delayed him?

By the one request he gained from Shido in the past week…

Yuma Ishida, and Fusa's text nearly immediately after.

Akechi's about to scan the room for Fusa again when a woman bumps into his arm hard. A cloud of perfume clogs his nose almost immediately, and the SIU Director cringes back at what seems like a whole bottle of perfume dunked without regard onto a single person.

"How rude of you to disrupt our conversation," the SIU Director glares at the woman, who only hides her face in her long hair and makes a vague sound like she wanted to vomit. "Don't worry, Akechi-kun," the Director waves a hand to call a waiter forward. "I'll resolve this issue."

The hands on his arm suddenly grip tight in warning, and Akechi only barely manages to hold his wince of surprise as he glances down. There is something strange about those hands. Slender fingers, but a little too long, too large. Thick and veined, with callouses that were distinctly familiar on his own hands, a life ago.

"…There's no need, Director," Akechi bows at him. "I don't mind escorting this lady to the women's bathroom to feel better. It seems like she's only drunk, so it'll be a simple trip."

"You're too kind, Akechi-kun," the Director sniffs, though already walking away. "If you insist, then I won't stop you. We'll talk later about our agreement then."

The woman staggers delicately on her heels as Akechi gently leads her out of the crowds near the edge of the room, where the exit towards the toilets are when Akechi hears a growl.

"Thank fuck I found you," he hears in a low rumble on his arm. "These heels are killing me."

"Fusa-san," Akechi hisses as he walks a little faster. "Why are you?"

"In a dress? Isn't it obvious?"

Fusa's drunken hands pretend to clutch at Akechi, but one of his eyes look pointedly at the other side of the room.

There, sitting in one of the more private break areas, was another Fusa.

"The best thing about looking like the dictionary definition of a Japanese man is that finding someone to replace you is the easiest thing in the world. The art of disguise," Fusa says as they continue towards the restrooms, "is merely to misdirect. Now stay here while I go in and come out complaining about clogged toilets. Then make sure we sit in a public place while we wait."

Fusa wobbles into the women's restrooms and comes out mere seconds later making crying noises as he clutches back onto Akechi's arm. The crying, Akechi is genuinely impressed, sounds real.

"Is there a problem, sir, madam?" A server comes close to them with a concerned look on his face, and Akechi shakes his head.

"My apologies, I'm merely leading this woman to the nearest restroom but… apparently the lady's toilets here are clogged and she feels uncomfortable. Can you please fix this quickly?"

The server immediately bows.

"My apologies for the inconvenience. Please, there's a break room just down the hallway. Would you like to rest there?"

At a gesture, the break room is just a dim room with a few couches lining the walls. It's open, for the most part, and there were enough people in the corridor right outside the main room to create the alibi he thinks Fusa wishes to make.

"Yes," Akechi replies. "Thank you, we'll take your suggestion."

The moment they step into the break room and have relative privacy, Fusa starts taking off his shoes and unbuttoning the buttons holding his dress up on his side with a look of steely determination. His shoes are shucked off in seconds, and once unbuttoned the dress is designed to slide right off.

Ten seconds later, the whole building blacks out.

 _"Metaverse,"_ Fusa whispers, and Akechi doesn't hesitate.

The world warps in that familiar way, and the world comes back to them in grayscale. The dark veins and vaguely skeletal remains of Mementos seep into the building, but it's once again bright enough to see.

Fusa is already jogging away, dressed only in a tight running suit.

"We only have five minutes before the backup generators kick in." Fusa shoots over his shoulder. "We have to be quick, and I need you to get out of the Metaverse, Akechi. Come on! I'll explain later, if I can. We have to sprint."

Akechi runs behind Fusa as he sprints through grand hallways with determination, feet never faltering as he swerves through different corridors and races up stairs barely breaking a sweat. It's only when Fusa simply kicks a door open and strides into a bedroom that Akechi has the chance to ask, "What are you doing, Fusa-san?"

"This whole building is a trap," Fusa answers, eyes bright in his face as he pats the walls around a heavy oil painting, before nodding to himself. He motions Akechi to help him lift the painting off the wall, before pressing into the wallpaper with great concentration. His fingers pressed deliberately on five different points before the whole wall shifted, and Fusa's face lit up and immediately heads inside the secret compartment. There are many paper folders lined up on shelves in this hidden area, but Fusa's face falls when he opens them. "Damn, these are incomplete here. There's a security camera on the left… Okay. Wear this wig and look to the right, Akechi."

Fusa dumps the long wig that he had still been wearing onto Akechi's head. It doesn't fit very well, but he doesn't seem to care. "When I count to three, let us back into the real world. One, two… three!"

The only thing Akechi hears is the sound of cloth muffling glass. When he looks back, Fusa has his phone out, flashlight on. The security camera was shattered with the hilt of a small knife that Fusa is hiding back into his belt.

"Okay, where to start… They say they started working together three years ago, right? That means all the files from the second shelf to the third, if I'm guessing correctly…"

Fusa is muttering to himself lightning fast as he grabs all the paper folders into a large pile, looking frustrated when he looked around and saw nothing that would help him carry everything out. "Glancing through… haha, he's Chinese. Should've guessed Red Lotus was Chinese. It's always lotus this, mountain water that, golden something or another for those groups," Fusa rolls his eyes even as he dumps more files onto his pile on the floor. "Why are those poets always waxing poetic about the moon when they think wistfully about their hometown anyway? I hate my home – ah, done. Akechi, if I'm hugging this half, and you're hugging that half, do you think all of these will transport at once?"

"If you're holding them," Akechi confirms, and between them they manage to scrunch all the files that Fusa wants to steal into their arms, before with a finger they enter back into the Metaverse.

"Phew, my job is done. You, however, need to get back to that break room. There'll be another girl there, who is going to have real long hair and wear that dress I ditched. She's also going to vomit on you so you have a great excuse the leave the party early, okay?"

"What's going on, Fusa-san?"

"What will be going on is that I find something to transport all of these files we just stole, and you go back to the break room. I'll lead you there if you forgot the way," and Akechi shakes his head. He remembers where to go, and Fusa nods. "I can't leave this realm without you, remember? It's only a three hour walk from this place to your dorm. I'll explain everything then. Get going!"

Fusa shoos him off, pointing at the time – one minute left until the blackout ends – and Akechi doesn't hesitate and sprints.

He melds out of the Metaverse right in time for the lights to flicker back on, and a girl that looked similar to Fusa – with the same drenching perfume, the long hair and the dress that was now properly buttoned on, groaning against his arm.

"O-oh, I don't feel too well," she says loudly, bending away from the break room's opening so no-one could see that the hand over her lips actually reaching down her throat to induce vomit.

Then Akechi tanked the inevitable.

  


* * *

  


"Shido-san, yes, my deepest apologies… I merely wished to aid a drunk woman, but I couldn't have imagined… I couldn't present myself to your closest supporters like that, if you understood my meaning…"

"I actually had a proposal for you. With Kaneshiro's case becoming so famous and the similarities between the Phantom Thieves of Hearts and the comas we have been inducing…"

"Oh? You've already thought of the same idea? Shido-san, may I ask if you've seen the list of suspects I've submitted before? I wish to investigate them more closely. If they really are the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, I may be able to learn how they change hearts the way they do…"

"Thank you. I also wish that you have a wonderful evening with your supporters. Do not worry, I'll integrate myself into the Thieves without raising suspicion. The suspects are merely a bunch of vigilante teenagers, after all."

"Yes, I will report back to you soon."

  


* * *

  


"That building we went to," Fusa says later as he crunched on some celery slices that Akechi had in his mini fridge. When Akechi had checked the Mementos version of his dorm room a few hours later, Fusa had been there, with a large box of files left outside in the hallway. "It was owned by the Red Lotus. That guy who is probably the only one who knows the Cleaner's name? Yeah, that guy. Usually that building is decked out with security, and it isn't as if it's any different except we had a valid excuse to be inside. It was the perfect bait for me, Shido knew that. The Cleaner knew that. So I just had to get what I wanted while beating _them_. What's better than being perfectly in sight, surrounded by people on all sides, and still having their files stolen? Hah!" Fusa rips apart another piece of celery and chews on it victoriously. "I also heard rumours on what Shido wanted to do, you know. Well, everyone really, but especially you. Didn't you think that room was a bit crowded?"

Akechi frowns from his spot on his chair. Fusa and Atsuzawa had strangely similar sitting habits, in regards to crouching near doorways.

"Was Shido planning yet another initiation ritual?"

"Yes," Fusa scoffed. "Guys like Shido have one-track-minds. They just want mindless obedience, you see. He was planning something a little more… hardcore this time. But don't worry. You're out of it now."

Shido had been planning something that even made a person like Fusa grimace.

"…What happened to you, after that night?" Akechi asks.

Fusa blinks up at him for a few seconds, before his face crumples into annoyance.

"Ah. That. Well, Shido gave me an impossible task to be due by… the end of November. Then he proceeded to start eliminating all the people I know he knew of. Then he took out some people I didn't think he knew. In retaliation, I've been setting up litigation scenarios for a few minor businesses for the Cleaner and Shido here and there, all hush hush, of course. We've all be polite about it. Smiles outside, backstabbing the rest of the time. I still have worth, after all, as his only major agent in the intelligence agency so. That's been. What's been happening since then. Kept Shido busy, hah."

Fusa grimaces.

"Yuma Ishida?"

"My mentor," Fusa responds. It's uncharacteristically quiet. "He was helping me with some stuff on the side. It's been hard without him, but don't think it's your fault." Fusa glances one black eye up at Akechi. "You've been a big help. I'll need at least a couple of weeks to get through all that crap we stole today."

Akechi watches Fusa crunch through another celery stick deep in thought – they'd both known he was hungry enough to eat much more, but that was the only thing Akechi had in his fridge.

(Akechi remembers Fusatsune Tsuchihashi did not exist in Shido's inner circle, the last time around.)

"Fusa-san, you should leave," Akechi asks, and Fusa's lips only press into a thin unimpressed line.

"Akechi, I said I'll have your back. Don't you believe me?"

"That's not the issue," Akechi starts, and Fusa rolls his eyes.

"I know why you're saying this," he replies, a pale hand running through short black hair. He eyes Akechi from where he's slumped, and he sighs. "Zane told me that before him, you also had a partner that you tried to resist Shido with, right? I have my suspicions – is it Wakaba Ishikki?"

The man smirks at him when Akechi only widens his eyes in shock – he had never disclosed Wakaba's explicit name to anyone but the Thieves and Kirijo.

"Don't look so startled, kid. When Zane pointed out that you had a partner, it was pretty obvious who it was. Wakaba Ishikki was one of the best researchers on the Metaverse, and she was a decent sort. She's also one of the very, very few times you failed a mission given to Shido, and she 'mysteriously disappeared' even in my eyes when Shido ordered us to finish her off. I read what happened, you know," Fusa says conversationally, crunching aggressively on a celery stick between sentences. He swallows. "I can read between the lines. First Wakaba Ishikki, and then Zane… Who else have you trusted that Shido hurt, hm?"

When Akechi stays silent, Fusa sighs. He reaches into his snack box, weaving another stick of celery between his fingers as if it was a pencil.

"Akechi, I'm not going to leave you behind," Fusa says in that rock-steady way of his. "It's not about me being prideful about running away or anything. Fuck, running away from monsters like Shido is probably the logical option, if it wasn't my _literal job_ to stop bastards like him. But that's not wholly it."

Fusa chews through the celery stick, one black eye trained on Akechi with dead seriousness.

"You're a fucking brat sometimes, but you're still going to be here if I leave. If I can't bring you with me, I'm not gonna go. I shot a guy for you, didn't I? You're mine now. And I'm the guy who always, always brings my people back home."

"Fusa-san," Akechi protests, but he's cut off with a roll of Fusa's eyes.

"And if you're thinking that I'm in danger because of you, Akechi, think again. I've always been in danger, ever since Shido learnt my name. What's a little more risk? I'm gonna make sure you're getting to the other side of this safe, Akechi. We'll stand together and shove evidence down the tribunals throats until they vomit out a life sentence for Shido, and I'll recruit you into my division after you get a degree. I'll guarantee you 100% employment with the best salary package as a graduate, that's like, attractive right? How does that sound?"

When the man looks at Akechi, his eyes dare Akechi to ask him to leave again, and he swallows.

"You aren't going to join Atsuzawa-san in Kyoto?"

"No," Fusa replies with a sharp, dangerous grin. "And nothing you say will stop me from getting to the bottom of this dumb conspiracy and ripping Shido off his stupid perch. Don't act like the maniac's only your problem. He's held Zane hostage to force me for years."

"Then," Akechi concedes, "accept this. I've made a deal with Kirijo Group due to their interest in the Metaverse. They're trustworthy, and they've offered me some safe houses." Akechi's tone brooks no argument, as he smiles angelically. "Use one."

"Ugh, _fine._ After you tell me why they're trustworthy."

"I'll tell you as I lead you to one of the safe houses tomorrow evening."

**Hanged Man Rank 6 – Fusatsune Tsuchihashi**

  


* * *

  


_[To: 1234_

__

__

_I understand your concerns. However, there is nothing that stops us from launching a soft campaign against Shido._

_There are teams that I trust that can handle the investigative process when we are ready to confront the Conspiracy head on, but there is nothing that stops us from starting to spread the seeds of doubt. You have done a good job in curtailing what you can under surveillance._

_We do not even need to move against Shido first – one of the judges that you mentioned will be a good target to begin crippling the network he uses to guarantee his members absolute security. When an enemy is united, we only need to separate them. While personally seeding rumours would have brought you risk, to the Kirijo Group it is a minor matter to cover up._

_There is a hypothesis that I wish to test in any case. I trust that having been the one to maintain Shido's public image that you will understand what aspect I am most curious about.]_

Akechi pauses as he reads this reply from Mitsuru, in the middle of a sandwich that Saito had insistently pressed in both his and Yusuke's hands this morning (Yusuke had enthusiastically called Saito a 'goddess in human form', to Saito's fond laughter when Akechi bowed in thanks). The general chatter of the classroom is muted – probably because university exam period was drawing nearer and nearer. The group of honour students he sits with are all sitting at their desks studying, and he doesn't seem odd at all as he pretends to read his notes on his phone.

Although he had skimmed over the documents that Mitsuru had shared through Futaba, he hadn't read them fully just yet. Rather than simply not having the time, he had planned to read through all of the information Kirijo Group had supplied them with Akira, or the whole of the Phantom Thieves.

But he remembers enough about some details of the Dark Hour…

Perhaps it would be more accurate to reference Inaba. The serial killings in Inaba had been accompanied by a fog that seeped from their equivalent of the Metaverse. Reports from the group of Persona users that had awakened during that incident stated that the fog was spread by a God attracted by the wish for humanity to embrace ignorance.

The Metaverse – their Mementos – was much more widespread than the mere town of Inaba. It stands to reason that there must be some sort of reflection in the real world.

He slowly types his reply.

_[To: kirijosupport_

_I'm guessing you are curious as to why Shido has so much public support and popularity, despite having so little on his record to predict his meteoric rise in politics a few years ago. Linking Shido to the fact that he was one of the first individuals to know about the Metaverse - ]_

Akechi cuts himself off.

He narrows his eyes at the sentence he was just typing, cogs turning in his mind. Akechi had long known that his ultimate goal, which laid in the Metaverse, may have the momentum of a God. He had also known that Shido and his Conspiracy is probably the God's pawn. By being Shido's pawn, he had been dragged into whatever play the God was planning.

But how did Shido explicitly know of the Metaverse?

He had taken it for granted in his previous life. Although Shido had helped him experiment and understand what to do with his powers in his first life, he had always known about the Metaverse. Although Shido had never known any finer details, he always had a hunch for what Akechi's Metaverse powers could do for him.

In his previous life, he had merely attributed it Wakaba's research, or some other metaverse research that Shido had stolen.

But now he knew Wakaba hadn't known about the Metaverse at all. He could still remember Wakaba's surprised expression when they warped to the surface of Mementos for the first time, the awkward clacking of her heels as she raced out the alleyway and stared at the empty ruins, the red light. Wakaba only had her theoretical research based upon Kirijo's previous data.

When he thinks through the research that Mitsuru sent, none of it had actually been based off the current incident that he and the Phantom Thieves were experiencing. There were only measurements of Metaverse activity at most, because _they hadn't known how to start._

Shido wasn't the type to act on a whim when it came to his own security, nor his electoral campaign.

Shido, who had sat there with absolute confidence, humouring this pathetic orphan boy—

_What had given him that assurance?_

The fog, Akechi's mind traced back. It was the cognitive world responding to a call from humanity. Death, Erebus, the transmogrified coffins and Tatsumi Port Island. Ignorance, Izanami, the fog, with the whole of Inaba. Now the mastermind behind Shido, with the whole of Tokyo City. The Phantom Thieves target the 'heart' while unlike the fog or the Dark Hour there was no visible alteration of Tokyo City except…

Akechi reads Mitsuru's email again.

_[…is a hypothesis that I wish to test in any case. I trust that having been the one to maintain Shido's public image that you will understand what aspect I am most curious about.]_

Shido, the Mastermind's pawn, has unprecedented support from the public despite the lack of great achievements in his background. His political record is a reflection of Akechi's success as a Detective Prince – most of his laudable achievements come after his popularity.

And if he thought about it, didn't Mementos unlock with the increase in the Thieves' popularity? The sudden sway of public opinion?

The links were all there, Akechi thought, eyes wide, watching the blinking cursor from his frozen email. Mementos was a reflection of Tokyo's subconscious. Why did Shido's popularity continue to rise even though his campaign doesn't truly stand out from the others in any other aspect?

This God could control the subconscious. Humanity's thoughts and feelings, often unquestioned.

If that was true, mementos had long already been leaking it's affect into the real world. The Thieves – and Akechi – merely didn't have a handy visual indicator like their predecessors had. The Velvet Room always appeared to the Wildcard when humanity was heading towards ruin, and it was obvious that the role was taken by Akira this time. It's a topic they need to talk about as well, but—

_"The Other Side is creeping closer to reality year by year. And your story… two Wildcards, and no Igor in sight."_

Akechi remembers Minato's comment with a chill down his spine.

No, Akira obviously signed a contract, if he can appear in Palaces and Mementos with all sorts of Personas in tow. He's obviously contacted the Velvet Room.

_No Igor in sight._

Could it be that Minato was wrong?

No, even if Minato was wrong he needed to first consider the option that he was right. And if Minato's considerations were correct after he'd heard Akechi's story through, then the major question was who, exactly, is Akira meeting?

Or a greater question was, _who had he signed a contract with?_

With a few flicks he brings up his chatlog with Akira. Last night, Akira had texted him a photo of Morgana engrossed with a crossword puzzle that, Akira secretly shared, he'd already solved in his head. It's LeBlanc's tables, clean but with a somewhat aged and vintage quality, and Akira had texted him wondering whether they could go to Jazz Jin again sometime soon. Perhaps a game of darts?

Akechi had long thought it was strange that Akira would ever choose to accept a deal that would lead to the ruin of the world. Akira was the sort of idiotic bleeding heart that prioritised the happiness of his friends over anything else.

Had he been forced? Manipulated, Akechi thought with a building anger he hadn't felt for a long time, chained down until he had no choice but to submit?

Something about that image – of Joker, laid low, beaten down by someone who wasn't Akechi who at least respected Akira's stupid, reckless spirit – grated on his nerves.

But first.

_[To: kirijosupport_

__

__

_I'm guessing you are curious as to why Shido has so much public support and popularity, despite having so little on his record to predict his meteoric rise in politics a few years ago. Linking Shido to the fact that he was one of the first individuals to know about the Metaverse, perhaps his popularity is linked to how the Metaverse and the Metanormal has presented itself this time._

_Are you going to spread rumours to test that popularity, and assume that there is external influence if his popularity doesn't even falter despite the negative press?]_

Mitsuru's reply doesn't take too long this time. He's on the subway to go to Police Headquarters after school when he gets her reply.

_[To: 1234_

_You understand me, as expected of one praised as one of the shining stars of the new generation. Yes, that will be the conclusion that we will start to make. It does not make sense that an event with such scale does not affect the real world in any way. If what we are postulating is true…_

_Akechi, I had thought to bring this up to you in any case. I would like to send you aid – someone who I explicitly trust. He is not officially a member of the Shadow Operatives but a close collaborator. He has proven his strength in past Metanormal incidents, was key in solving the Inaba Serial Murders, and is discreet._

_As much as I wish to provide direct aid, the Shadow Operatives have limited numbers, and my duties to Kirijo pull me away from Tokyo frequently. I have been moving to increase more members of our Shadow Ops into Tokyo but have been denied for many months._

_He will be your contact. If you do not trust him, he and Futaba have long been in contact and have collaborated before. As they put it, they have become reluctant friends. I trust that this will make him easier to accept as a viable contact.]_

_[To: 1234_

__

__

_Ooh! Oooh! I know who you guys are talking about. Don't tell him this because he's dumb, but he's a good guy! He's kinda strange, but he's really nice and he likes cats so he's been dying to pet Morgana again, it's kinda funny. I've been cat-blocking him for the past month by sending him all these candids of Morgana – did you know he's surprisingly photogenic?]_

_[To: 1234_

__

__

_Futaba, if you're reading our email chain despite the level of the security clearance I placed on this exchange, does this mean that I need to update Kirijo's security systems again? As agreed upon before, please give me a detailed report of the exploits that you utilised to enter our systems yet again.]_

_[To: 1234_

__

__

_Oops, I forgot about the clearance um. Ummmmm. It was Fuuka who told me about the backdoor! I didn't hack it I promise, it's still really secure! Bye!]_

When it seemed like Futaba wasn't going to hijack their correspondence any more, Akechi responded.

_[To: kirijosupport_

_I will meet this person, Mitsuru-san. As long as you place him where it won't be suspicious for us to interact, I will accept your offer.]_

_[To: 1234_

_Divergences aside, I thank you for accepting. I will arrange the details of this arrangement. You will hear from our side soon.]_

  


* * *

  


"Ah, Akechi-kun! You are always such a diligent student. I knew you would be in the classroom early!"

Akechi peers at his homeroom teacher – a man with unfortunate thinning hair that went around his scalp in a circle leaving the patch of hair on top of his head still relatively healthy – and pastes on his honour student smile. He'd been planning his day in his head. After school, he had agreed to meet with Akira at Kichijoji to discuss some matters and perhaps have that catch up he had promised Akira a while back. He hadn't really known what to do in the evening however, but his train of thought was now interrupted.

"Of course, Yamamoto-sensei. University exams will arrive soon, and with all the extracurriculars that come with my detective work, I know I need to work extra hard to ensure my studies don't fall behind."

"That's great! I knew that I had the right hunch when I chose you," Yamamoto said with his characteristic nervousness. The man had always been the type to look like he'd keel over if he watched a horror movie, and Akechi smiled at him gently.

"Yes? Is anything the matter?"

"Well, please come with me, Akechi-kun! So," Yamamoto began when they were in the corridor starting to fill with students wandering to class. "As you know, our school is always looking for opportunities to allow our students to grow. We were recently lucky to be included in a pilot program made by an alliance of some of Japan's top universities!"

Yamamoto opens the door to the teacher's lounge and ushers him towards one of the couches.

"We were allowed to pick five students – which means one from each of our third-year classes of course – to be entered into a mentoring program! The aim of this program is to allow university students connect to high-school students preparing to enter into university, to make the process less stressful and the process smoother. Here's an info sheet for it, please read it and see if you're interested!"

Yamamoto is babbling a little more. Akechi half listens to it. Apparently Akechi had been chosen because he had such a busy schedule while maintaining his grades – his success in his extracurriculars in the police force had made him ideal for this mentoring program designed to ease students into the university process but he'd understand if Akechi-kun didn't choose to attend, of course.

The pamphlet was simple, the mentorship easy to understand. Extremely valid too, headed as it was by Tokyo University.

And, on a small box in the bottom left corner in the sponsors section was the Kirijo Group logo.

Hah, Akechi laughed to himself. Mitsuru Kirijo was truly much more formidable than he'd expected. To have arranged this so quickly was near miraculous.

"Yes, I'll accept the offer, Yamamoto-sensei," Akechi gave his teacher the reassuring smile that he knew the teacher liked. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity."

"No, no. You deserve it all, Akechi-kun. We actually have all the prospective mentors in the other room. They've already sorted out who will mentor who as the mentors chose by class. Just go the mentor sitting by the name card with the big '1' on it, okay? Don't worry about first period, we're going to let you guys chat and get to know each other."

Yamamoto gave Akechi a big encouraging smile as he flapped a hand for him to go to the next room down the corridor. It was usually the student council's room, but Akechi shrugged and entered.

There were five people in the room – three of them were chatting to one another, while another one napped on their desk.

The last one sat comfortably on his chair with his legs crossed, table with a big '1' card taped to it. He's scrolling on his phone one-handed, face completely expressionless underneath a neat silver bowl-cut.

When Akechi walks over to his table, grey eyes glance upwards and recognition flashes in them before being quickly neutralised.

Akechi's read about him before. Fellow Wildcard, leader of the Inaba Serial Murder Investigation Team.

Mitsuru truly didn't hold back on his monitor, did she?

"You must be Goro Akechi," Yu Narukami says in a near deadpan, holding out a hand to shake. Strange that he doesn't prefer a bow, Akechi thinks as he grasps it to shake. "Nice to meet you in the flesh."

"Nice to meet you too, Narukami-san."

When they settle down at their desks so that they can get the required icebreaker questions done and dusted, the world freezes.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Strength** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noname drew another beautiful art based on a what-if of Akechi dying, with all the Thieves crying as he leaves in a field of marigolds. It's beautiful, noname! I won't say anything about whether it'll happen or not for spoiler reasons. ^^  
> https://noname-nonartist.tumblr.com/post/640950641333829632/back-to-reality  
> Wrath of Nature drew a beautiful Akechi with some stunningly detailed and symbolic imagery in the background. :D I tried to catch what symbolism I could, Wrath (you drew in so much!) Thank you very much :D  
> https://twitter.com/Wrath_of_Nature/status/1352347296705339393?s=20  
> Grim drew Hikaru! A few adorable chibis, and a full portrait of his happy look as I imagine him walking towards Akechi, hehe. Thank you so much, Grim! Hikaru is amazing XD  
> https://grimtactician.tumblr.com/post/640955528428879872/some-art-of-colbubs-very-special-boy
> 
> I'm so sorry, I feel like this chapter wasn't as great but I'm just trying to push through. (I tried to put jose in here but it just didn't happen ah, I'm sorry jose you'll get you outing in the next chapter with all the wholesome thieves i promise).  
> Thank you all so much for your comments, support and kudos! It means the world to me that you guys still read so far. ahahah. I'm glad Mitsuru was interesting last week. ^^ Strength is Yu! So many of you guessed Aigis, and I was really tempted but it's Yu for a reason ehe. It'll be so fun writing him XD  
> See you all next week! I'll try edit this mess of a thing throughout the week uwu. Thank you all for reading *bow*


	43. Chapter 43

“What is your favourite colour?” Akechi asks Yu as they wait for the other mentees to arrive into the room.

“Calico,” Yu responds without hesitation, and Akechi pauses before he reads the next question on the list.

“Isn’t that a type of textile?” Akechi asks this new Strength Arcana of his. It’s something entirely unexpected and unknown. Even though he’s read some sparse files on Narukami’s exploits to know that he has undoubtedly ranked him one of the strongest individuals in their current circles (he had, according to reports, faced a God single-handedly and came out _victorious_ ), and had come along with explicit approval from even a social recluse like Futaba, Akechi had no idea how to read the man in front of him.

Although dressed stylishly and could be considered handsome in a way where all eyes were drawn to him the moment anyone entered the room, Akechi’s starting to read that… he’s a little odd.

“That is what the _unenlightened_ would say,” Yu responds gravely, resting an elbow on the table in front of them so that it seemed like he was sharing a great secret. His voice dips in a low whisper, as he stares at the scratched, slightly graffitied table in front of them as if it had personally offended the universe. “As I am now your mentor, I must be the shepherd that leads you to the truth. Calico is a particular splotched pattern on an animal most commonly recognised on cats, and many breeds of cat may have this type of colouring, such as the Japanese Bobtail, or the American Shorthair. Due to genetic reasons, male calicos are much rarer than female ones and…”

Yu Narukami seems to be entirely engrossed with this lecture, having uncrossed his legs and starting to emphasise points about how the genetic colouring of cats have been linked to their disposition, with calico females often being considered feisty and independent and Akechi’s nodding along (was he supposed to conclude something from this? Does this mean he should bring Morgana to every interaction with Yu to rank easier?) when someone on the side groans.

“Dude, you got Narukami on a _cat rant?_ RIP,” one of the other university mentors laughs just as a teacher opens the door with the last mentee. The room falls silent as the mentee sits in the last empty spot

“Thank you for waiting, everyone. I’m Yuuko Egashira, the teacher coordinator of this program at the school, and I would like to cover some basics about etiquette and the aim of what we’re trying to achieve. After that, I’ll let all of you continue to get to know each other,” says a teacher that Akechi recognises as one of the Japanese teachers that he’s never encountered. 

In summary, the program was a weekly mentoring program targeted at helping third-year students connect and transition through the stresses of university exams and into university itself. Mentors and mentees were welcome to exchange contact details and communicate as they wish, but they’ll be required to write a journal based upon their thoughts and impressions of the program that will be checked every week.

It’s simple enough, and when Egashira tells them all to talk – and that they didn’t need to stick around in this specific classroom if they didn’t wish it – Yu gets up. Akechi follows suit, and they stroll into empty corridors as Yu observes each one with a curious air.

“Anywhere you know that’s private?” Yu asks as they reach the stairs, and Akechi nods and takes the lead.

He reaches the school rooftop with a few quick loops. Yu doesn’t lift an eyebrow when Akechi casually jacks the lock (it’s been faulty for years) and opens the door to a sunny, summer morning.

The rooftop itself isn’t empty of seats and shade – it had once been open to students during break-times before regulations had mandated that the old fences that their school had were too low for student safety. Since then, the matter of replacing the fences with ones that met regulations kept getting pushed back, leaving it a perfect place for individuals like Akechi, who sometimes wished to take a breather in a place no-one would ever find him.

“Great spot,” Yu says with a tone that indicates nothing about his true level of approval, before heading straight towards the old dilapidated umbrella stand and yanks it open. It does so with a sad mournful creak but holds up well enough over a few weather-worn seats. He pats the seat next to him, and when Akechi sits next to him, Yu nods.

“Mitsuru-san suddenly gave me the veterinary clinic placement I needed, and this mentorship deal yesterday morning,” Yu says. “I read your file on the way here. I am here to be a line of direct support in any case of Metaverse emergency, as well as a representative from Mitsuru to start explaining and building up your understanding and trust for what we offer in the Ops. But files are misleading and if we’re to make this work in the long-term, I believe in the power of direct communication. Tell me what you wish me to know about yourself, Goro Akechi.”

Yu’s clear grey eyes are direct and honest in a way that reminds him of children when they approach something new, or particularly besotted fans who wanted Akechi to _listen to their issues_ , and Akechi looks away. Looks like that give him goosebumps.

“I’m sure that Mitsuru Kirijo is thorough enough to provide you with any critical contextual cues,” Akechi deflects. Yu doesn’t react in any way other than a blink.

“No truth is complete with only one side of the story,” Yu replies simply after lizard-blinking for a few more seconds without any reaction from Akechi. “Mitsuru’s report lacks any of your input.”

Ugh. Akechi glances to the side and senses the same type of annoying persistence that he’s forgotten was inherent in _most of his Arcanas_ , and with a roll of his eyes he leans backwards on the old sun-faded seats. It creaks as Akechi squints up the too-bright sky, powder-blue with no cloud in sight.

Get it over and done with, Akechi tells himself.

“Well, I was an orphan who went through Japan’s severely underfunded foster-system vowing to find my father and enact revenge on him for his role in my mother’s suicide. When I was fifteen, I was _lucky_ enough to discover the Metaverse and saved my father from a scandal with its powers. The few years after that has been a constant attempt to dodge his attempts to use the Metaverse for uncontrolled murder while keeping track of his grand conspiracy with some key members I trust. Now, with successful negotiations, I’ve been able to connect with Futaba and the Phantom Thieves, as well as Mitsuru Kirijo.”

Yu Narukami blinks those too-honest eyes in that deadpan face. His thoughts churn for a second before he nods.

“I see why Mitsuru sent you to me now,” Yu says. He's suddenly oozing confidence as he leans back as well, resting one ankle on his other knee. There’s the smallest smile on his face that matches the glint in his eyes when he creates eye-contact again. “You need…” Yu continues, pausing dramatically as his smile grows into a smirk and Akechi’s mind stalls – there’s something in Narukami’s presence that’s naturally arresting, something that quite similar to Akira – when Narukami continues.

“A professional onii-chan.”

“A _what.”_

“Don’t worry,” Yu says calmly, gestures placating. “I have a lot of experience with being a great onii-chan. In fact, I have won the best Big Bro awards five years in a row, and I have never seen Nanako be wrong with anything.”

“And just how many ‘Big Bros’ does this Nanako have, exactly?” Akechi drawls. Yu has the gall to keep that smile on his face as he answers generously.

“Of course I’m the only one. Now, don’t be shy, Akechi. Feel free to call me _Big Bro_ any time you want.”

“I just _met_ you,” Akechi deadpans straight back, and Yu shakes his head.

“Shh. It’s okay. We will have weekly meetings now to grow our bond.” Here, Yu’s eyes flash with a little knowing before it goes back to a sort of well-disguised twinkle that Akechi’s has finally labelled as _utter troll._ “Do you like fishing? I have to state in advance if you dislike cats we have to terminate any relationship on a permanent basis.”

They end their first meeting with Yu giving him a dramatic handkerchief wave with an utterly deadpan face before one of his uni-mates cuffs him around the neck and forces him to walk with all of them down the street.

Akechi sighs, rubbing his temples when his phone rings.

[Futaba: Told you he was weird!]

[GA: …I’ve never known you to talk in understatements, Futaba.]

[Futaba: Hey, I promise he’s a good guy!]

[GA: Ryuji Sakamoto has warned me in advance not to take you on your word alone, you know.]

[GA: Apparently he’s been a part of one too many of the ‘jokes’ you make when you try to help with his homework.]

[Futaba: Ryuji! _What is this betrayal?]_

[Futaba: I’m totally trustworthy! The chicken-nugget war of the 1990s was _obviously_ the reason why our economy burst its bubble!]

[GA: Of course. Just like how the lettuce-riots lead to the Liberal Co-Prosperity Party being propelled into the majority party it is today.]

[Futaba: Hah! I knew you’d get it!]

Akechi looks at their message chain for a few more seconds before switching his phone off, turning on his heel to go back into school. He wouldn’t have thought it would be possible, but he’d finally found someone who spewed even more nonsense than Akira on his inexplicably playful days.

He knew _his_ Akira would have _ecstatic._

* * *

Akechi is exiting Shibuya station alongside the late afternoon crowd of students when a familiar head of curly hair catches his eye standing in the courtyard leading to Shibuya crossing. Akira has always stuck out from the crowd as he’s taller than most even comfortably slouched as he is, and the golden haze the setting sun casts upon Akira flatters his profile. It’s rare that he’s able to catch Akira like this and his feet are automatically turning towards Akira because there are topics he needs to discuss with him – Igor, for one, and perhaps the Velvet Room itself – when he stops in his tracks.

Akira is talking to a girl with bright red hair tied up into a ponytail.

The issue is, he _recognises this girl._

Identical twins that he’d only ever greeted at the studio as he’d been ushered to make-up rooms, to the set and back, but his memory readily provides a few snapshots.

A bright and sunny girl who greeted her father with a leaping hug every time they managed to catch him during a recording break, with a shyer girl who always held a large bento so they could all eat together. The whole studio had known that Director Yoshizawa had a close bond with his family and respected his privacy whenever the three had sat down to eat together.

Something in the back of his mind clicks into place as his unresolved question of why he still sees Director Yoshizawa in the studios of Good Morning Japan is answered. The last time, Director Yoshizawa had used all his annual leave as well as the leave he was entitled to for emergency crisis to take a year-long break from his work as Director after an unfortunate car accident took one of his daughters, and his other daughter committed suicide two months later. Since Director Yoshizawa had, on multiple checks, been completely clean of any influence with the Conspiracy he had kept it in the back of his mind to be solved later.

He narrows his eyes at the two in thought. Before he approaches the two Akechi does a quick search for the article that covered the accident in question and…

Yes.

Kasumi Yoshizawa, award-winning junior gymnast, died in January by a car accident. The incident was cited to be a combination of rain, phone use by the driver, and that Kasumi had failed to take note of the pedestrian lights when crossing.

This then, Akechi thinks as he lets a more neutral expression overtake his face. Inquisitive, he thinks as he gentles his eyebrows, but not overbearing, and he strides towards Akira and the ghost he’s talking to.

“Huh, Akira?” Akechi pretends surprise as he grips his suitcase tight. Akira immediately looks towards Akechi, but before Akechi can register his expression he’s looked towards Sumire Yoshizawa trying to gauge for anything strange. “And you are…” He trails off expectantly, just in case he’s _wrong,_ and the girl turns and smiles at him.

“It’s been quite a while, Akechi-san,” Sumire Yoshizawa greets with a smile that doesn’t match his memories of her personality.

Akechi hides any suspicion deep in his heart as he flashes her his Detective Prince smile, tilting his head slightly to the side. It’s the one that she must be most used to, after all.

“And the same for you… Yoshizawa-san, right?” He clarifies, and Sumire’s confident smile doesn’t falter. It’s practically a confirmation and Akechi’s about to go in for the kill (he’ll lead the conversation to how happy he is that she seems well. Condolences are something quite in character to give if he provides a sheepish smile along with it) when Akira cuts in.

“You two have a history?”

Akechi falters. Akira rarely ever cuts into conversations, and Akechi looks back at Akira in surprise, cataloguing Akira’s reaction as Akira shifts from one foot to the other with a small frown on his face.

Strange.

“My father works at a TV station,” Sumire replies for the both of them, capturing Akira’s attention briefly as Akechi continues to watch Akira. There’s a slight movement in Akira’s bag, and he’s quick enough to catch Morgana rolling his eyes as his head peeks out. The cat gives him a small wave with his paw before sticking his head back into the bag. “Have you ever seen “Good Morning Japan”? My father’s the director,” Sumire continues explaining cheerfully.

Akira’s attention is back on Akechi, so he continues his explanation with the same smile stuck on his face.

“I’ve been brought onto the show as a guest a number of times now. That’s how I ended up becoming acquainted with Yoshizawa-san.” Akechi pauses before he continues. “I didn’t know you knew her as well, Akira.”

As the current Wildcard contracted with the Velvet Room, all of Akira’s relationships are important in some way. Akira, in essence, was currently the Golden Boy of the world after all.

And Akechi has never believed in coincidences.

“We’re friends,” is all Akira deigns to explain. Akechi’s smile warms and widens in response as he turns towards Sumire again.

None of Akira’s friends were simple.

“He helped me out of a jam before, and now he’s been offering me guidance,” Sumire offers to explain a little more, and Akechi chuckles.

“Helped you out of a jam, eh? That sounds like something Akira would do,” Akechi replies to her, before meeting Akira’s eyes again. He hadn’t looked away, eyes slightly narrowed, and Akechi shoots his pleasant smile straight back at him. He isn’t going to let the chance to interrogate Sumire go. It’s only convenient that Akira is here as well, to make things less awkward. “So, what were you two up to?”

“Oh, right! I was just about to share some exciting news. It’s nothing to keep secret, so I may as well spill it now. About that summer competition I mentioned to you before?” Sumire says to Akira, and if Akechi had his normal sense of tact he would have excused himself already. Instead, he watches closely as this ghost enthusiastically states, “I was chosen to be our club representative!”

“Congratulations,” Akira replies with his signature calm.

“This only feels like the beginning to me, though,” Sumire affirms.

“…Isn’t your club’s team considered to be quite prestigious?” Akechi asks, knowing through rumours that gymnastics had been something the twins had both competed in. Kasumi had been the one who had won all the scholarships and awards, Akechi remembers through the gossip chain. Sumire had lagged behind in all her scores and had been one to not take it well. “And you’re their representative? I must say, that’s extremely impressive.”

No particular reaction about gymnastics or his subtle jab at how impressive the achievement was for Sumire, Akechi notes in the back of his mind. For Kasumi, leadership would have been a given. But all Sumire responds with is a bland, “Thank you! I’ll do my best to make everyone proud.”

A typical, polite, bland good-girl response, Akechi thinks as he responds warmly.

“I’ll be cheering you on as well. Ah, I have an idea – since all three of us are here, why don’t we go somewhere as a group?” He steals a glance at Akira, who despite wearing his usual neutral expression didn’t seem all that impressed as Akechi continues. “We can call it our… little celebration for Yoshizawa-san’s success.”

And fascinatingly, Sumire Yoshizawa responds like how he’d imagine Kasumi Yoshizawa would react, happily accepting the offer after checking with Akira, who responds with one of the nods. As they all head towards Kichijoji to the café he suggests, Sumire happily sharing quotes of her day that Akechi pays close attention to, Akira slotting himself smoothly in between them in silence.

When they reach the café, they go through all the typical get-to-know-each-other conversations. How did they all meet, drinks, preferences, and while Akechi ignored how Akira seemed to be staring a hole into his head, Akechi took the opportunity to dig for information.

“That reminds me, Yoshizawa-san. You had mentioned that Akira’s been providing you with some guidance,” Akechi adjusts the placement of his cup of coffee, and Sumire responds with what seems like her brand of constant cheer.

“Yes – like you just said, Kurusu-senpai’s way of thinking is intriguing. I figured I could benefit from his input.”

“Then,” Akechi looks up, bringing a hand under his chin to fake that he’s in thought. “Let’s play a little game. It’s something that Akira and I have long discussed. What,” Akechi asks, “do you think of the mental shutdowns, Yoshizawa-san?”

“The mental shutdowns? You mean the random comatose incidents that have been happening in Tokyo for the past three years?” Sumire seems surprised to be asked such a question for a second before she quickly adjusts herself. “I admit that I may not be as well-versed in the matter as you may be, as one of the investigators on the case, Akechi-san, but I think I agree with the general opinion that I wish the cause to whatever’s happening is found as soon as possible.”

“Do you feel sorry for the victims?” Akechi asks, and Sumire nods.

“Of course. To have a family member fall into such a condition due to mysterious means with medical experts at a loss to find a cure must definitely be an extremely stressful experience for their family and friends. Their loss must be dearly felt every day.”

Akechi counts a second before he widens his eyes in regret.

“Ah, my apologies, Yoshizawa-san. I didn’t mean to remind you…”

“That’s okay,” Sumire responds with a shake of her head and a sad smile. “I understand that you didn’t do it on purpose. In any case, I only hope that the families of those victims have as strong a support network as I had so that they can have heart as they face every day.”

“Akira, for one,” Akechi jokes lightly, and Sumire nods strongly with a wide smile. “I’m guessing Director Yoshizawa is working hard for your sake every day as well. I see him doing his best with a smile on his face whenever I’m in the studio.”

“Yes, everyone has been very supportive of me,” Sumire says, brushing her skirt down. “I feel blessed every day when I think of how they have carried me when I didn’t think I had the strength to do it myself.”

“Would you have any advice for me the next time I meet a victim’s family?” Akechi asks with a hint of perfectly tuned worry. “Sometimes I find myself struggling to find words of advice when they ask for help.”

“Don’t hesitate to reach out to friends and family,” Sumire replies promptly. “And to tell them it’s never shameful to get help. I understand there’s a stigma around getting help from mental health professionals, but my counsellor has been integral to my recovery after… what happened to my sister.”

“Your counsellor?”

“Yes. In fact, even Kurusu-senpai knows him. He’s our new school counsellor,” Sumire replies with a happy smile as Akechi finally slots another piece into place. “Maruki-sensei is one of the best counsellors I’ve ever seen, and I know that without his help I would struggle to be the person sitting here today.”

“I see,” Akechi leans back, as he once again reassesses a name he hadn’t placed in importance for a long time. “I agree that there is an unfair amount of fear in regard to reaching out for help for mental health, Yoshizawa-san. Your advice has been invaluable.”

“Anytime, Akechi-san,” Sumire responds.

“What do you think of Maruki-sensei, Akira?” Akechi asks, and Akira takes a moment to consider him before replying.

“He’s clumsy but kind.”

“Do you think those are the qualities that make a good counsellor?” Akechi asks Akira, before getting interrupted by Sumire’s laugh.

“He is, isn’t he?” Sumire agrees. “But that makes Maruki-sensei, Maruki-sensei. I find that seeing him as someone who doesn’t mind demonstrating that clumsiness makes him much more approachable to me. Anyway, I’m sorry to interrupt the conversation, but I might need to get going.” Sumire looks at her phone in concern. “If I don’t keep my curfew nowadays, my family tends to get worried.”

“Then we won’t keep you then,” Akechi agrees. “It was nice to talk with both of you.”

“Indeed! Thank you for the wonderful conversation, Akechi-san, Kurusu-senpai!”

After another few rounds of congratulations and goodbyes, Akechi treated the whole table before finding himself standing in front of the café next to Akira, watching where Sumire had walked away.

“It’s rare to see you so interested,” Akira breaks the silence, and Akechi drops the hand that had been propping his chin in thought. He turns around to look at Akira, who still had that unnervingly unwavering stare that he’d kept up throughout the whole afternoon.

Akira did tend to do that. If he fixed the habit, Akira would probably lose half the reason why he insisted on wearing fake glasses.

“Well, it’s nothing personal,” Akechi divulged. He finally lets his expression dip into calculation, tapping a finger against his case. “There were just a few questions I’d left unanswered that this… friend of yours has now answered.”

Akira’s gaze sharpens.

“Is she related?”

“No,” Akechi shoots down. Director Yoshizawa was completely clean, and the Yoshizawa sisters had no relation to the Conspiracy. If anything, it was the school counsellor Maruki who seems the cause of everything, having cured Sumire of her depression into someone ten times more confident, leading to Director Yoshizawa not leaving his job from sustaining two consecutive family losses. “But there are some other avenues that I’m questioning, and this provides me with another angle to chase something. Which reminds me. Akira, are you free?”

“Tomorrow evening?” Akira suggests before his face holds a faint grimace. “I agreed to meet someone tonight.”

“Tomorrow then,” Akechi agrees sharply, looking at the time on his phone before grasping his case tight. “I’ll make time. There are some important matters to discuss with you that shouldn’t be delayed.”

In the meantime, he just thought of another Arcana he can ask for an opinion on everything he’d thought about. With Igor, the Velvet Room, and how the causality of his time-travelling may have worked.

* * *

This really wasn’t how Akechi had planned how he’d spend his time after school the next day.

Akechi had planned on the usual – diving into Mementos and collecting enough flowers to meet Jose at the top again, so the can ask his share of questions – but his plan had been foiled from the start.

“Mister! I had a feeling that I’d meet you today.” Jose smiles widely at the entrance of Mementos, a spot of bright blue and cheerful star balloons in an otherwise macabre atmosphere. “I could feel our bond having the potential to grow stronger, and then you came! And oh,” Jose blinks his wide yellow eyes at him, unfocusing for a second. “Congratulations on your new Persona. Good job!”

“Jose, I have a few questions for you,” Akechi starts to ask, but Jose sinks his hands into the puffy coat around his waist with a shake of his head.

“We have an agreement! You’ll give me flowers and then I’ll answer your questions.”

Akechi sensed that Jose didn’t mean the metaphorical kind that Jose drank either. He really should’ve known.

Jose’s hand grips two of his fingers tight in excitement as they go up the elevator, and when the two emerge out of the Metaverse straight into a small alcove at Inokashira Park, Jose is literally vibrating in joy. Akechi’s only glad that it seems like there aren’t many people walking around the park in the afternoon because of the summer heat, as Jose’s colouring and clothing choice couldn’t help but stand out like a beacon.

“Oh my, so these are what real flowers look like!” Jose exclaims, head whipping about to look all around him. “Everything is so colourful, wow.”

Inokashira park favours bushes, shrubs and shady trees relative to flower beds for the majority of its landscaping but walking deeper into the park is a small section of flat grass, flowering bushes and planted flowerbeds to break the view. It’s a popular picnic spot for couples, filled with a variety of blooms that seemed to be surviving the summer heat, and Jose practically rips his arm off when his tiny fingers clinch with inhuman strength. Akechi is physically pulled to the nearest hydrangea bush in a surge of excited energy.

“The smell of the real world is so overwhelming!” Jose says as he takes a deep sniff. “So this is the smell of the sky I’ve always heard people talk about. There are little bits of everyone floating around in the air like soup, I see, to make so many smells. I wonder which scent comes from flowers?”

Akechi nudges Jose closer to a wall of hydrangeas.

“Proximity helps when you’re trying to smell something specific.”

The concept of space seems to boggle Jose for a second before he slaps a hand to his head.

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense! Of course there will be more little pieces of yourself if you’re closer! You’re so smart, mister!”

Without preamble, Jose proceeds walk towards the flowering bush and, with a few seconds of tilting his head this and that way as he examined the bush, buries his whole head into it.

Akechi blinks down at this and wishes that he had the sense to wear his hoodie when a family that was walking by _stares_ at Akechi, then Jose, whose tiny figure is half-buried in a bush. Jose is giving some sort of running commentary that Akechi’s not paying much attention to, (‘ _Wow, mister! Things are kind of dark in here – I think I broke a branch that tried to poke my eye’),_ and Akechi’s tugging is somehow ineffectual in getting Jose to budge even an inch.

Jose seems to be searching for something, in any case, and he comes out a few seconds later with a flower in his mouth, small face victorious as he starts chewing.

“Oh bleh,” Jose says after chewing it for a few seconds, the happy expectation on his face falling as he paws at his face and tries spitting out the petals. “The flowers definitely don’t taste as good as they smell. I thought it would be sweet.”

Jose scrunches up his face even as Akechi watches him blink his large golden eyes, observing that in such bright light for the first time, the rings in Jose’s eyes actually fluctuated when he was in deep thought.

“I see… So this is _disappointment_ ,” Jose concludes with a nod of his head. There’s a leaf stuck in his hair that Akechi can’t help but sigh as he plucks it off and throws it to the side. “No wonder people say that disappointment tastes like bitterness. I’ve only ever drunk flowers, but to think eating would allow me to learn so much at once.” He turns his happy expression up to Akechi. “This is something I couldn’t have learnt down in Mementos. No wonder humans love to eat so much, Mister!”

And before Akechi could stop him, Jose tugs another handful of petals from the hydrangeas and stuffs it in his mouth.

“Ew! So bitter!” Jose laughs, chomping on them in delight and finally follows Akechi when he tugs them forward towards a place with fewer bushes to dive into. “This is very fun! I’ve never understood why eating was such a big part of the desires I drank, but I guess eating physical energy is just very nice!”

“Don’t eat these,” Akechi points to a whole bed of colourful tulips. “They’re planted so you can appreciate their colours and arrangement.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” Jose nods as he finishes swallowing the last of the petals. “Eating this would ruin someone’s good job.”

“…Yes,” Akechi replies, sigh barely held back.

Jose grips Akechi’s fingers tight again as he looks at the arrangements of flowers in the flowerbeds as seriously as he’s ever seen him. They’re really just solid blocks of colour, matched in some way to form lines, or maybe rainbows, but Jose seems riveted all the same even by the end of their walk.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” Akechi asks when he sees that Jose’s smile hadn’t faded even when they passed all the flower beds. “You even shaped your collectables in Mementos after flowers, and it’s obvious that this is the first time that you’ve ever seen a real one.”

“That’s an easy question to answer, mister,” Jose replies. “See, look? That’s a butterfly!”

Akechi looks up, and there’s an orange and white-winged butterfly flying to land on one of the tulips, it’s delicate wings fluttering before they stilled as it finally landed. Jose watches it with a fond gaze in his eyes.

“Butterflies like flowers, you know,” Jose says, that pure smile that always seemed to linger on his face suddenly tinged with something a little sadder. “Flowers help butterflies stay strong. So that’s why I like flowers!”

“It sounds like you like the butterflies more than flowers themselves,” Akechi observes, and Jose grins, swinging their hands between them.

“Yup! That’s why I like flowers!”

…It’s not the first time Jose made no sense, so Akechi moves on.

“Are you happy with the flowers you’ve seen now?” He asks Jose as they gradually head towards the end of Inokashira Park. Jose is busy staring at a passing child with unblinking curiosity, to the point that their parent is looking at Akechi with reproval, and Akechi bows in apology as he covers Jose’s eyes.

“Why are you blocking my eyesight?” Jose asks, and Akechi sighs.

“It’s rude to stare at someone for so long,” Akechi says as he drops the hand, only to see that Jose has now riveted that inhuman yellow gaze on _him_ instead in confusion.

“It isn’t? How strange.” Jose states, tilting his head sideways. “You and the other mister seem fine with it?”

“How so?” Akechi retorts as they nearly reach the end of Inokashira Park. He could see a wide pedestrian crossing from here already, and tall concrete buildings and apartments that peek through the canopy and the tree’s natural shade.

“Well, you guys are always carrying that eye along with you,” Jose says, blasé as ever as he watches the encroaching city with a drooping disappointment. “I thought humans didn’t mind being watched so much!”

Something in Akechi’s blood freezes.

“Say that again.”

“I mean,” Jose says patiently, stopping at the very edge of Inokashira Park and patting the nearest tree in appreciation. “That I didn’t realise it was rude to stare when you and the other mister are being stared at all the time.”

Akechi fishes out his phone and switches it on, holding it in front of Jose.

“On this?” He asks, something cold twisting in his ribcage at what Jose was implying.

Jose, as usual, doesn’t notice his shift in tone.

“Yup!” With a cheerful tap of Jose’s finger on the Metaverse App, the world warps around them until they’re standing in the Mementos version of Inokashira Park. Although the vague shape of plants is still preserved, everything has lost its lustre of life, the dull, faintly acrid smell of Mementos replacing it instead. In the sudden monochrome, the blinking red of the Metaverse App stares up at them. Jose points to the eye. “I mean, what else is an eye supposed to do? I thought you knew.”

“We _don’t,”_ Akechi replies, his fingers clenching around the phone that has been, apparently, a supernatural surveillance device all along (in _both_ his lives? This, this changes some of his hypothesis). “I didn’t know that this _thing_ was watching us at all.”

“Oh, then the eye is being rude. That’s not good,” Jose frowns. “Do you want me to fix it? I can do that for you since you’ve let me learn so much today.” Akechi stares at Jose, who seems to be in his own world again as he wiggles his fingers and sighs sadly. “I’ll need both hands, I think, and some stuff from my cart. I guess this trip is over.”

“Can you fix this issue with all the others?”

Jose falters at Akechi’s abrupt question.

“Um, you mean the other mister and all his friends? That’s… that’s a lot of work,” Jose scrunches up his face. 

It hasn’t been lost to Akechi that Jose understands things in trades. Every single one of his requests has been to trade something for another, and Akechi dangles his bait.

“I’ll bring you anywhere you want next time. Maybe,” Akechi promises, “somewhere with actual human food.”

When Jose is still frowning, Akechi sweetens the deal.

“Not only will it be food, but it’ll also be _flower-shaped food.”_

“Oooh… Three more outings and that flower food you mentioned, and you have a deal, mister!” Jose decides after a few more moments, and Akechi shakes their joined hands together.

“Deal.”

* * *

“I always felt bad that the eye couldn’t watch you when you were around me,” Jose confides later on as he’s delicately tapping on the air above his phone and somehow making solid tinkering noises. The little toy hammer that Jose is holding in his hands is whacking something solid despite it being nearly two inches away from his screen at times, but Jose is squinting in concentration from behind his goggles and Akechi sits on the hood of his car and doesn’t interrupt. “I’m kind of… a vague concept, you know? It’s hard to explain, but basically, it’s hard to look at me for people who’re more a type of concept that’s not _me_. I’m a very free sort of idea, I think.” And here, Jose squints for a second in thought, before shrugging his shoulders, continuing to poke his phone with his tiny fingers. “Traditional type thoughts are kinda… I mean, they aren’t _bad_ , but…”

“So what are you going to do with the eye?” Akechi asks as Jose putters out by himself, having talked himself into a corner.

“Add a little bit of me,” Jose replies as he bends closer to the surface of his phone and hums in satisfaction. “When the eye tries to look at you, it’ll just have a very hard time focusing and trying to understand what’s happening. I’m not very _powerful_ , you know, but I have my tricks so…”

Anything is better than knowing that someone had out there had the ability to spy on him at any time, any where.

“Do you think the eye watching us is the owner of the Metaverse?”

Jose pauses a second.

“Maybe? I mean, it’s definitely the person who sent this to you in the first place. You know, now that I know that you guys didn’t want to be watched, I understand why you were all calling each other fake names.”

Hmm?

Jose continues tapping away at solid air.

“I mean, names have a lot of power. It holds your identity, your past, your connections to the world… By not saying your names inside Mementos, whoever owns the Palace doesn’t really notice who you are, you know? There’s a lot of people in here, and everything gets lost.”

And fake names, Akechi narrows his eyes, was _Morgana’s_ idea.

A Metaverse cat, who had amnesia but an uncanny knack for knowing what the Thieves needed to know.

“Aaand… done! Here’s your device, Mister!”

“Good job,” Akechi pats Jose’s head, who laughs in response when his hair sticks to a few gaps in Morrigan’s gauntlets. “Can you stick around for another hour or so? I’ve agreed to meet with the other mister soon.”

Jose tilts his head.

“I mean, I’ve heard of it, but how do you measure an hour?”

…Akechi really shouldn’t be surprised by now.

When Akechi quickly slips up to Shibuya and buys a cheap dollar watch and slinks back down to Jose, he happily gasps at how there are so many little ticking things going on and promises to stay the hour for Akira’s phone to be ‘fixed too! Don’t forget our promise, Mister!”

**Magician Rank 4 – Jose**

* * *

“Okay, done!” Jose hands Akira’s phone back as well, and he looks proud of himself. “That should do it, other mister! I’ll check on it the next time you come down with your friends. I have somewhere to go now, so… good job!”

Jose toots his horn, pats Akechi’s knee goodbye, before swerving off in a huge roar of engines and screeching tires.

Akira adjusts his gloves after he tucks his phone back into his pocket, and there’s a sharp languidness in his body language that signifies that he’s already in Joker mode. Akira stands straight, more alert, and the eyes that weren’t hidden by a thick pair of unnecessary glasses were a tad too sharp when he glanced over their surroundings before they landed on Akechi.

He’s in his Raguel outfit – light, and surprisingly comfy, with Raguel’s burning presence in the back of his mind where Morrigan usually lied with her bloodlust and gleaming hate. It’s honestly a little strange, Akechi thinks, as he twirls his sword-cane.

“Why Mementos?” Akira asks, and Akechi absentmindedly tries to test the cane’s balance by throwing it into the air. It lands right where he expects it, Akechi catching it by the handle again.

“I apologise for dragging you into Mementos when I know you were looking forward to a relaxing evening of darts,” Akechi replies. “But there are several things I needed to mention to you that I wished to do first alone, without the other Thieves. One of them was…”

“Jose?” Akira cuts in, and Akechi nods.

“Jose recently informed me that there was an individual spying on us through our Metaverse Apps and he had a way to stop it. We’ve struck a deal for now, and he’s willing to change all the Thieves apps too.”

“What deal,” Akira demands with a frown, and Akechi shrugs.

“Taking him to a confectionary store. He wants to eat flower-shaped food.”

Akira blinks in surprise, and Akechi nods grimly.

It’ll be a harrowing experience. Confectionary stores tended to have more people. 

“The second matter is… Well, it’ll be easier to show you. Come with me.”

The two of them murder every single Shadow between them with brutal efficiency as they travel towards Wakaba’s room. Akechi doesn’t know where Akira had learnt the skill, but apparently, Joker could now sprint and rip a Shadow’s mask from their face and _crush_ it before it could get absorbed into them, causing them to die immediately.

It’s… Akechi thinks with a tingle down his spine. Quite an interesting technique.

“I’ve been collecting the trash that Shadows drop since I started exploring the Metaverse and Mementos,” Akechi waves Akira inside and towards the literal mountain of trash that had piled up over the years. There must be thousands of screws and metal plates and all the things that Akira likes to horde, and Akechi just feels relieved he can finally gift it to Akira.

Akira’s staring at the whole mountain of trash with a slack jaw.

“I’ve thought that maybe I could find a way to make use of all of this, but I never found time to do so. I’ve noticed that you make a lot of your infiltration tools with this… stuff. I’ll gift it all to you.”

“Really _?”_ Akira says with as much emotion as he’s ever heard Akira speak. “If I kept a small pile and sold it all at Airsoft… Wouldn’t this be at least a few hundred thousand yen? What if it’s a million? Crow." Joker’s eyes are intense behind his mask as they look at him. “This is quite a lot of cash. Are you absolutely sure?”

“You’re the one who uses it,” Akechi replies. “Take it. I’m really not strapped for money.”

“Would you mind me bringing Mona to carry all of this later?” Akira asks, and Akechi waves him off with a shrug.

He didn’t want to breach the topic of Igor and the Velvet Room in the middle of Mementos while they’re literally in the lion’s den, so he twirls Raguel’s cane again as he waits for Akira to break out of whatever reverie he’s put himself in. It doesn’t take a long time – Akira soon looks towards Akechi and smiles.

“Third, is that you keep telling me not to go off on my own. I thought you’d appreciate this offer to join me as I test out Raguel’s skills. It’ll just be mindless carnage for the night, Joker. Want to compete against me to see who kills the most?”

There’s a taunting edge of Akechi’s smile, and Joker’s face lights up into a smirk.

“Prepare to be surprised.”

* * *

Akechi hates to admit it, blood burning in his veins with adrenaline making the edges of the world sharper, clearer, brighter. Akira whips out Personas in a carousel of weaknesses and strengths, knocking Shadows down or killing them on the spot while Akechi brute-forces every Shadow that isn’t weak to fire or light.

It turns out Akechi _absorbs_ fire when Raguel is active, and he smirks in Akira’s face whenever he can deny one of his _pity heals_ , slamming Raguel’s cane right through a Choronzon’s chest and ripping it out, only for it to hang on with a sliver of health perfect for Akira to snipe the kill with a well-placed bullet.

“Mine,” Akira says smugly. Akechi scowls at him and moves forward to Joker’s particular brand of laughter.

He really hated to admit it, but Akira was _strong_.

Joker had hardly been this strong by the time in Okumura’s Palace, or he would’ve had a much easier time killing the bots that Okumura kept sending out.

“How,” Akechi grits out when he manages to slice clean through another Shadow, finishing it off with a quick shout of _‘Agidyne!’._ It burns to crisp with a pillar of raging fire when Akira’s shot misses, ricocheting off a wall. “How are you so strong already?”

“I trained,” Akira has the gall to reply, and Akechi bites off a particularly unsavoury reply. Akira was practically on par with Morrigan and Raguel, as impossible as it may seem. If Akechi pulled out Robin he’d still win, hands down, but that was still an _unsatisfactory outcome._

“I was trying to catch up to you,” Akira continues, and at that Akechi pauses. It’s more Akira’s voice than Joker’s when Akira comes to stand next to him after checking for any loot the Shadow dropped. “After the confrontation… our first one.”

When Akechi looks, he sees Akira’s small quirk of the lips underneath Joker’s mask.

“I asked you to wait, didn’t I?”

Akechi’s anger suddenly dissipates. After a whole hour of trying to chase down a reason as to why Akira was so much stronger than he’d imagined, to hear that it was because Akira was trying to catch up to _him…_

The small burn of jealousy aside that Akira had the potential to become stronger _even faster_ than he expected, Akechi swallows as Akira tilts his head, observing. Akira blinks before there’s a spark of smug realisation, and Joker returns with a vengeance. A smirk steals across Joker's face, the one that he wore whenever he finished a battle with a perfect all-out attack.

“Hey, _Crow._ You know,” Akira says as he strides nearer to Akechi with Joker’s characteristic smoothness. The smirk has hardly faded. “I’ve been chasing your back this whole time. Always somewhere out of reach when I wanted to stand by your side. How am I supposed to help you, if I’m grasping at your coattails? What type of friend… or _partner_ would I be?”

Words rise and stop against his lips when he looks at those dark eyes.

Akira doesn’t understand, Akechi tries to say.

Akechi has always been the one trying to chase Akira instead. The words he says so easily, the light in his eyes. The world that he saw.

“Crow, you know,” Akira starts again, “I want to be there for you like you were there for me. But I don’t know tomorrow,” Akira says as he strides nearer to Akechi with Joker’s characteristic cat-like lightness. “And I can’t change yesterday. Sometimes you’re really hard to read, but that’s okay. Crow, tell me. What do you want _now?”_

Akira’s eyes are riveted on his own. Hooded. _Challenging_. They’re the ones that Akira uses when he’s a leader, the eyes he saw when Akechi had sat in LeBlanc and Akira looked too happy the traitor was sitting in the café. But underneath the challenging playfulness he’s exuding, Akira’s pushing a _demand_.

Akechi swallows. In these echoing tunnels of Mementos, Akechi looks down at the gloves that cover his hands. Raguel’s white gloves, his bright, burning determination a voice of uncompromising peace whenever he talked alongside Morrigan’s madness fuelled laughter.

Robin’s quiet presence curls somewhere deep in his mind. A soft hum that was once fuelled by childish laughter.

Akira blinks at him behind his mask, standing a little too close, and Akechi…

What does Akechi _want?_

He wants –

He has always wanted to _destroy_ Shido. He wants to see him lying on the floor, grovelling at his feet for all the harm he’s caused to the people Akechi loved, begging for a forgiveness that Akechi will kick away as cruelly as he can so he can laugh at his desperation. He wants to grind the fact in Shido’s face that _he’s_ the pathetic mistake, not him.

But it’s the feeling of a gun in his hand, the memories of warm smiles, a voice close to his soul that makes him brush past Akira to continue striding down the tunnel, forceful steps echoing down into darknesses that held more Shadows lurking in twisted tunnels. Akira falls in step beside him, and the next battle is a quick clash, as Akira leaps and shoots the Shadow down from its blind spot, roaring flames quickly blistering the Shadow to death a second later.

“Tell me, Joker,” Akechi says without answering, watching the Shadow disintegrate dispassionately. “Why did you become a Phantom Thief? What is it that you see in all of _this,”_ Akechi waves a hand at the veins, grime and disrepair of Mementos around them, this reflection of society’s deepest heart as one of repressed insecurities and warped desire and he transforms his confusion into anger, “that makes you have such a heart to _save_ these people? Don’t you see what I see?” Akechi allows a hiss to escape in his voice, a shard of disgust that Akechi thinks will never leave him. “The depths of human pettiness and hate? Haven’t you noticed that not a single person in this _‘collective unconsciousness’_ is satisfied with their life? What are _you_ trying to do? What do _you_ want?!”

Joker looks at him, before with a flap of his coat he turns towards him. He’s striding closer again, as Akira has always done. Always striding forward, no matter the obstacle, no matter the distance, towards what he wants –

“I know that what the Phantom Thieves are doing isn’t the epitome of Justice,” Akira replies when he's close enough. There’s a raw honesty to the tone that Akechi’s never heard before, in all of _his_ Akira’s boy-scout like responses to his pointed questions. Always optimism that, change this. ‘We can do it together.’

Here, Akira looks at him with dark eyes. Adjusts the red gloves over his hands.

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

_Caught red-handed._

A look of resolve flashes across his face.

“When Arsene appeared before me,” Akira says softly, “he confronted me with questions that I didn’t want to face. I acted on my own justice and it made everyone I know reject me. People I’ve known all my life suddenly thought I was a monster for stopping a woman getting raped, and I thought that I would regret it one day but… I never did.”

Joker looks up, and his eyes blaze with the emotions that Akechi had always been searching for.

“I was angry, Crow, and some part of me is always angry. Of course I want to save all these people,” and Akira waves his hand at the ugliness of Mementos around them, “because _they’re not the ones who hurt me_. But I’m not one who cares so much about the means if it creates a happy ending, and stealing hearts like this is just another way for me to tell them I’ll _never_ regret doing what I did, and I’ll keep pursuing this justice when _no-one else will,_ and they’re _wrong._ ”

“But even in that anger,” Akira continues, and Akechi can’t look away as Akira keeps eye contact riveted on him, demanding his attention, daring him to look away, “even in that isolation, there was a light. It told me I wasn’t wrong, it reminded me that there is more to life than _anger_.”

The Thieves, Akechi realises. _His_ Akira, and this Akira – no-one had ever asked them about feelings about what happened to them, but it had been enough that Akira had been the very first to awaken out of all of them. He hadn’t even needed a particularly strong push – just his frustration at his own indecisiveness to act on his own sense of justice.

But Akira had been attached to the Thieves, had joked and laughed and shown sides of himself that he’d never show when he was walking down the street with his hands in his pockets.

They had been his light.

“What I want is to help you,” Joker, wearing his coat of rebellion, dark and sleek and a _thief_ with all its shadows and hidden corners, the secrets it implies. “Now that I’m here, what do you want, Crow?”

“I want to destroy my father,” Akechi replies to Joker’s unspoken demand, in response to Akira’s rare honesty. “I want to see what’s beyond the shadow he’s casted over my entire life. What beauty is there, beyond _this._ ”

“Then do it,” Akira replies without acknowledging Mementos around them. “Crash against that barrier. We’ll destroy him and all those things that stop you from seeing beauty. We’ll reform the world together.”

“As stated by the leader of the Phantom Thieves,” Akechi says to retreat back into a safer topic, something less personal and Joker – it’s undoubtedly Joker because Akechi has never seen Akira so open with his emotions – he lets Akechi go.

“No,” Joker says, low. “As stated by _me._ ”

**Fool Rank 6 – Akira Kurusu**

* * *

The moment they break back out into the evening, Joker slides away back into the more familiar form of Akira, even though there’s a slightly sharper light in Akira’s eyes than Akechi’s used to.

Perhaps it’s his first time truly seeing Akira for who he is. Acknowledging the anger that… he’d hidden away so completely.

“Don’t be a stranger, Akechi,” is all Akira states, back to being impassive behind his glasses. He’s tucked his hands into his pockets again, and Akechi acknowledges him.

“Akira, I…” How would someone more graced with _emotions_ do this? Saito would probably say something like, “I appreciate your honesty today.”

And Akira does something inexplicable, as he always does. Even though Akira’s shoulders are slumped in tiredness, there’s a light in his eyes when Akira responds with, “I knew you would.”

Akira yawns, waving Akechi a lazy goodbye as they both head back to their dorms.

It left Akechi lying in the dark with memories of Akira’s dark eyes flashing as he told Akechi he wasn’t as perfect as he’d always thought, after all. That Akira Kurusu, Golden Boy of the world itself, felt the same anger, frustration, and turmoil that Akechi himself had felt before he had overcome it with his bonds, his friends.

They truly had been too similar.

* * *

“You say Akira is helping you with understanding the human heart?” Akechi asks over a bowl of a takeout beef bowl, and Yusuke nods with him as he snaps his own chopsticks.

“He is most gracious of my eccentricities, and I find myself comfortable with sharing my moments of inspiration with him because I have some strange confidence that he will not judge, as humorous as his replies may sometimes be. However, something still seems to be blocking my art, and I was wondering if… If it were my issues with my past.”

“Are you wondering if you can see Osamu Endo in hospital?”

“Yes,” Yusuke nods, staring down at the glistening beef on top of his rice for a few moments before looking up at Akechi imploringly. “Is that possible, Akechi-kun? I thought, perhaps now that you are officially a double agent that has infiltrated the Thieves, that it may be easier for you now.”

“You’re not wrong,” Akechi replies. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Yusuke says, his face relieved as his chopsticks immediately dive into his rice. “In that case, I can finally eat this delectable beef bowl in front of me with one more burden taken off my shoulders. Thank you for treating me once again, Akechi-kun. You are truly an angel sent down from heaven.”

There’re a few angry pings on his phone that Akechi promptly ignores. He’s finally customised his ringtones, and Futaba can wait another half an hour for him to finish breakfast.

“Kitagawa-kun, your praises are becoming more and more excessive,” Akechi says pleasantly, and Yusuke inhales another quarter of his bowl.

“Please understand that I am always sincere when I state such claims,” Yusuke assures, and Akechi sighs wordlessly as he starts digging into breakfast himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aishin drew a cute 4-koma of Futaba and Akira sticking close to Akechi last chapter! (It's really, really cute - Aishin, your art style is adorable). Thank you very much!  
> https://bitteraishin.tumblr.com/post/641340851563479041/more-fanart-for-marigolds-im-sorry-this-is-for-a
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments last chapter! I really appreciate them. (I forgot to add Hinata's rank up last chapter, so um - that's the only major change though!)
> 
> Hehe, a few more things happened in this chapter. Just building up a few things here and there, and so things are just *happening* for now but... I think from the next chapter on it'll be full-on Arcana building time. Like, Akechi has so much time to build Arcanas now! Hehe~ (it's gonna be a nightmare balancing them all but hey, what's new in persona right.)  
> \+ Firework festival! Yay. I hope this chapter is ok. I'm a little worried about it to be honest, but uh. Oh well. ^^ See you next week!
> 
> I totally forgot about this! I was aiming to put an Arcana list every ten chapters and look at me putting this in chap 43. Sorry everyone. The list is way too organised for me to have made it - credit goes to 2000IQ Killjoy Detective (Wanderer). Thank you :3  
> 0\. Fool- Akira Kurusu Rank 6  
> 1\. Magician- Jose Rank 4  
> 3\. Empress- Haru Okumura Rank 3  
> 4\. Emperor- Yusuke Kitagawa Rank 1  
> 7\. Chariot- Ryuji Sakamoto Rank 1  
> 8\. Justice- Fusazane Atsuzawa Rank 10  
> 9\. Hermit- Futaba Sakura Rank 1  
> 10\. Wheel of Fortune- Wakaba Ishikki Rank 10  
> 11\. Strength- Yu Narukami Rank 1  
> 12\. Hanged Man- Fusatsune Tsuchihashi Rank 6  
> 14\. Temperance- Shiho Suzui Rank 4  
> 15\. Devil- Masayoshi Shido Rank 6  
> 16\. Tower- Hinata Osumi Rank 8  
> 17\. Star- Hikaru Kondo Rank 5  
> 18\. Moon- Sae Nijima Rank 4  
> 19\. Sun- Ise Saito Rank 10  
> 20\. Judgement- Phantom Thieves of Heart Rank 1  
> 21~ Universe- Minato Arisato Rank 10


	44. Chapter 44

The nurses’ office definitely seemed much friendlier than before, Makoto thinks as she steps through. Before Doctor Maruki came, the school nurse had been a rotation between two part-time external teachers who split the week between them. It made it so that the office never really had a flair of personality, as the two nurses made sure to keep the clinic tidy, clean, and unobtrusive for the other nurse when they went off shift.

With Doctor Maruki stationed at the school, the nurse's office had started to gain a comfortable air. Although Maruki was only slated to come on Mondays and Fridays, he didn’t seem to have any qualms in making the space his own. Snacks were always prepared on the table, with a few bags of extras behind a cabinet. A bit of clutter from student files, personal reading, and other paperwork was stacked here and there with Maruki’s loose scrawl peeking out from folders. And, when Makoto breathes in, there was now a smell of tea that lingered in the air from an electric kettle in the corner – Jasmine, she thinks – that disrupts the usual plastic and antiseptic smell that seemed to linger around anything medical.

Makoto doesn’t take a sip of the tea that Maruki had placed on the table in front of her, placing her hands neatly on her legs instead. She keeps her back ramrod straight, chin high and knees pressed together just like how her sis had told her to.

Look impeccable, always. Do not slouch, as slouching can easily become a bad habit. By sitting confidently, you only ever bow your head by choice, to those that you think deserve it.

Her sis had always walked tall and strong, striding forward in front of her in a confident stride that Makoto still didn’t completely understand, always aware of just how she’s still a child compared to her sister’s early maturity and hard-won success.

Doctor Maruki is predictably affable, just like how Ryuji, Ann, and even Akira had described. Even though all Akira had done was nod when Makoto asked for confirmation on Maruki’s abilities. Friendly enough, and Makoto wonders if _friendly enough_ would help her deal with the stress she’s been feeling lately.

“Excellent grades, exemplary conduct… Wow, you appear to be the ideal honour student,” Maruki says with an honest type of surprise that’s… actually kind of flattering. Being at the top of the grade was always just something that she took as something expected of her. A mess inside, uptight on the outside. Teacher’s pet, no wonder she studies without any friends—

Makoto cuts herself off.

“Oh, not at all – in fact, quite the opposite. I’m actually a bit of a mess, and I always have to turn to others for help.”

“Well, you sure had me fooled,” Maruki says with a cheerful smile. “Even still, getting help isn’t a bad thing at all. In fact, it’s wonderful that you have a support system.”

She thinks of the Phantom Thieves, how Haru had reached out to her at lunch today when the 3rd years had their break, happily chatting to her as Makoto scribbled out answers to her homework on the knobs of her knees. She's used to studying in the library doing lunch break, but it's not bad here either, watching Haru dig her hands into the soil of Shujin’s side gardens. Ryuji and Ann call out to her in the hallways now, and Akira flashes her one of his rare smiles whenever he passes.

Even Futaba, forcing her to silence her phone from all the memes she insists on sharing over the group chat, is a cheerful reminder of just how far she’s come.

If only they didn’t all just keep talking about _him._ Haru, cheerfully chatting about her next batch of vegetables with the Thieves, but also Akechi-kun, of course, wondering if he would come to their next meeting. Futaba, gushing about GA whenever they had met up to talk, and Akira always agreeing. Goro Akechi, double-faced and their double agent, embroiled in a fight against his own father’s wishes to take over Japan while keeping up with his grades, his image, his celebrity status, his internship, and supporting all of her new but somehow so _precious_ friends in some way.

In fact, he also helps her by assisting Sae. Whenever Akechi was there, Sis always had more time to come home.

If only she, why was she feeling this _twist_ of frustration and anger at someone so _perfect—_

“Indeed…” Makoto replies, a frown unconsciously stealing across her face as she crosses her arms defensively. “Especially lately. I feel like I need to re-evaluate myself and my goals.”

“Did something go wrong for you?”

It helps, Makoto thinks, that Doctor Maruki insists on wearing a lab coat over his clothing so that he looked more official than a school counsellor really needed to be. It reminded her that this was his job – to listen to her troubles, and probably have some good advice that comes from his training and a dash of an adult’s good sense. If she, at eighteen, could see how stupid her problems were when she was ten, then Maruki would most likely have a greater perspective on her own issues.

“Maruki-sensei, I have always worked hard on the premise of believing that by working hard I will succeed in the goals set out for me. Nothing more, nothing less,” Makoto starts, placing her hands on her lap again. She stares straight into Maruki’s eyes, and it’s obvious he’s trying not to glance away. “As you may know from my file, I am raised by my older sister.”

“Yes, now that you mention it,” Maruki takes the opportunity to glance down at his sheets. “Pardon my saying so, but it seems like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Honestly, it only felt like the norm to me,” Makoto dismisses. Her mother had died of sickness when she was too young to really remember her, and Father had been… “But our lack of adult guardians has to have been hard on my sister. That is why I have always strived hard to lighten her burden and follow the pathway she set for me.”

“That’s,” Maruki starts delicately. “Niijima-san, have you ever thought about what you wanted to do?”

“If you’re concerned about that, I have recently confronted the aspect of myself that always thought listening to others would make me more acceptable,” Makoto cuts off immediately. “I have also connected to a group of friends that are able and enthusiastic about encouraging me to explore any hobbies. That isn’t the issue.”

“O-oh, I see,” Maruki nods. “That’s great. Sometimes, following someone else’s pathway for you can be helpful if you don’t know what you want to do yet, but it should be an active choice. I’m glad you’ve found your resolution. What do you need help with, then?”

“I… have recently met someone who has given me an incredible amount of frustration,” Makoto says pensively. “But there is no reason to. He is very close to the group of friends I have joined. He has never been disrespectful to me, even though he is closer to other members of the group, and he is intelligent, well-read, and easy to talk to. In fact, he is an honour student on par with me, but he also manages to find the ability to assist others in ways that I can’t.”

“Have you ever tried to give a name to these emotions?” Maruki asks when Makoto stops talking, and Makoto sighs.

“I have, but it isn’t a pleasant admission to make.”

“I encourage everyone to try their best and be honest with themselves when they can,” Maruki encourages. “And I promise that under all my confidentiality laws that anything that comes out of this room won’t come from my mouth.”

Makoto sighs again, smoothing her skirt down for something to do as she looks honestly at her own reactions and thoughts about Goro Akechi, Detective Prince, Honour Student and Conspiracy Double-Agent Extraordinaire. All the praise, recognition and appreciation from the people she genuinely cared about—

(her heart still stings every time she thinks of Sis and her smile when she praised Akechi’s deductive skills, how he’s been such a great help, how he’s nearly more competent that actual officers who have done decades of paperwork and Makoto _bites it down)_

“I may be jealous of him,” Makoto admits. The frown on her face deepens. “Even though I know full well that this sort of emotion is unproductive and harmful, I can’t seem to transform it into something useful.”

“Although that’s a valid way of processing emotions, sometimes that’s not how everything works out,” Maruki says with sympathy. “I’ve found that a lot of the time, we get jealous because of a sore spot inside us, and it sounds like the boy you’re thinking of is an exemplary child.”

“A sore spot…” Makoto repeats, trying to isolate her feelings and Akechi before realising _everything_ about him grated on her. “I think I need to think about this a little more,” Makoto responds after a few seconds, and Maruki nods encouragingly.

“You’re a rational and clear-minded young woman, Niijima-san. Thinking things through always helps and talking to someone can usually clarify the load too. I’m here, of course, on Monday and Friday, but one of your friends, or maybe communicating with this boy himself if you’re on friendly terms, can be a great idea to help you understand and move forward from this.”

“Unfortunately, the boy in question is very reasonable as well,” Makoto sighs. “I’ve always favoured a straight-forward approach, so maybe I will try a direct confrontation. It’s strange,” she continues, barely refraining from allowing herself to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. Makoto straightens her back even more instead. “I’ve always told myself that all I need to do is keep my chin up and push towards my future, but I found it difficult to do with this.”

“Sometimes ignoring our problems thinking they’ll go away, or pushing issues away so that you can focus on your future doesn’t mean that anything is fixed. It just means that you’re pushing forward dragging extra baggage with you,” Maruki says with a concerned smile. “And the thing is, if you address those issues now they won’t need to be baggage when you do move forward.”

“You’re right,” Makoto nods. “Thank you for your advice, Maruki-sensei. I will take it into account. Would you mind if I come again? I don’t want to intrude, but you have been a helpful listening ear.”

“That’s quite alright. I’ll encourage it, even!” Maruki exclaims with a sheepish laugh. “Should anything come up that you want help with, I’ll be there to support you. My skills are pretty limited, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Makoto smiles, giving him a formal, respectful nod. She gets up in a smooth motion, taking her bag onto her shoulder and giving him a short bow. “Have a lovely day, Maruki-sensei.”

“It was my pleasure. Pop in anytime. And by the way, do you want snacks?”

In the pleasant chatter that follows as Makoto and Maruki say their goodbyes after Makoto takes a few snacks to bring for Haru tomorrow, as they’d promised to go to a café together after school (Ann declined, promising to go next time because it was one of the days she arranged to visit Shiho, and no-one in the group would ever deny her that), the eye in her pocket swivels.

It blinks, and the view switches and switches and switches. There she is, a blonde girl desperately holding her sleeves against her eyes in a garden outside a hospital. There, a boy with bleached hair jabs desperately at an arcade game, groaning when he gets hit too many times by an alien enemy. There, a girl taps furiously against her keyboard, before perking up and switching tabs and cheering at a person streaming a game. There, a girl hesitates in front of her father’s office, fingers gripped tight against each other. There, a boy stands in a school bathroom, washing paint off his fingers with solemn deliberation. He switches and switches, until he can’t.

His two players, he reaches. He gazes, steepling long fingers, closing his eyes in his seat in a blue velvet chair. Mementos is _his,_ and he uses it to reach _,_ but somehow his thoughts skitter away from something a little too bright, a little too chaotic and loud and pure, and he stills, for a second, before a wide, wide smile eats the majority of his face as it spreads until all Justine and Caroline can see is their master with his eyes hidden, a smile in the shadow underneath his interlocked hands.

His control had never slipped. Everything is still _his._

And he thinks

**_Interesting_ **

****

**_-_ **

****

_-_

_-_

He’s dreaming about munching on more colours and flavours and flowers, and sometimes he’s looking at the tunnels he’s driving through and sometimes Jose’s giggling when he sees that little string of a bond that reaches up and up to that folded Justice soul that he’s so familiar with now, when Jose’s ears perk up. He stops enjoying how the wind cuts through his hair ( _it’s so fluttery)_ and brakes the car. Tilts his head, listening.

Jose purses his lips.

He dims the stars on his car a little, tucks his jacket a little closer around him. When he starts the car again, he drives a little slower, doesn’t hum as loudly.

Hmm… Maybe he shouldn’t go to the surface for a little while, where the blue door shines.

Just a little bit.

* * *

“Ichiryusai Madarame is a conman that even I can admire.”

This was something that Akechi had once overheard when he was slinking to the back of a cocktail party dedicated to the Liberal Co-Prosperity Party and their major supporters. By then, Shido had already built the faction that he wanted to use to split off from the main Party to build the United Future Party and the tensions in the room had been thick underneath the laughter, the fancy suits and dresses. All of them knew that the party was prepared to split soon, and political allies would become enemies soon enough. Shido’s faction stood together, in general, a group of high-brow and well-respected individuals who were generally powerful and influential in their own right, having come from politics after a career in business, media, or old family ties. Half of them were individuals he recognised, having provided critical information to sway them to Shido. The other half were people Shido won on his own.

Traditionalists who had held their seats as pillars of the Liberal Co-Prosperity Party throughout the years had their own corner filled with champagne and formal yukata, with sly old foxes like Kuramoto front and centre of that faction, happy to bring grandchildren along to continue alliances and prove to the future dissenters that they would be fine without their support.

Then there were the neutrals in the middle, having survived as a neutral party so far because of sheer wit or luck, flitting by and promising nothing in their words of flattery and discussion.

Akechi hadn’t supposed to be here at all, as this was one of the more conspicuous parties of the year that Shido had to make an appearance in. But one of the neutrals that Shido was dead set on acquiring had recently been sick and had denied many public appearances, and with the looming date of the United Future Party being ratified Shido had somehow acquired him a discreet invitation.

Akechi had finished his task already – he’d checked the man against the Metaverse app beforehand and knew that he had no Palace, so he only had to fake getting keywords – and was about to slip away when he heard such a murmur in the back gardens.

It wasn’t a large garden. A few trails here and there, a stretch of grass. A few alcoves, and a few metres past that were large, barred iron gates that blocked the way to greater Tokyo. There are two men who Akechi recognises leaning against the wall of the emergency exit, taking a smoke break. They’re relatively secluded and they seem to know the function venue well, as Akechi can’t seem to see any security cameras around to record their relaxed attitudes as they leaned against the railing with slightly rumpled suits. Akechi only happened across them because he was trying to leave the premises discreetly.

“Think about it,” one of the men continued. “If the Phantom Thieves didn’t step in, Madarame had the best running con out of all of us. Unlike me who has to juggle my family all the time, Madarame was using and crushing nobodies for his money.” The man is ticking his fingers off one by one, and the butt of his cigarette flickers orange for a second as he inhales. “His reputation was spotless enough that we always had time to step in before any actual investigations would go into place. He only sells those fake Sayoris to private collectors known to be really zealous about protecting their works, and never sells more than one to a certain circle. He was filthy rich while doing practically nothing, you know? Even Shido looked forward to his continued support.”

“Can’t believe the Thieves found out about someone like that,” the other man nodded sleepily, blinking blearily up at the cloudy sky above that held back the moon with silver-edged wisps. “Even I was surprised about Madarame when I rose up Shido’s ranks, and I work in the art industry. There’ve always been _rumours_ , but it was always treated like any other gossip, you know? It’s like those rumours saying Chef Maru’s restaurant doesn’t comply with hygiene standards, or Rise-chan goes through a boyfriend a week. Madarame beating and forcing his students for their art was like, just another thing in the gossip chain.”

There’s a pause before the sleepy one continues. He breathes in deep to fill his lungs with a cigarette that is becoming little more than a stub, flicking the ash into a nearby bush.

“I have a kid, you know. Wants to be an artist. She’s real talented with oils, and I got a beaming report from the art teacher I hired. Then I remember how I was one of those people who ripped the references of Madarame’s apprentices when they came to me for proof and help and I…”

“Sometimes,” The other man says in an exhale of rising silver, “I wonder what we’re doing. To think we’d meet up like this after high school because we both…”

“You know my family needs the money,” the other replies as they both avoid each other’s eyes. They watch the smoke dissipate into the air, and Akechi sees a clear glimpse of both their faces.

Veterans in Shido’s circle. People who lurked right outside Shido’s restaurant in the bar area in his Palace. Middling importance, had a chance to rise.

In another world, another life, Akechi would have memorised their faces and searched out their names. He would have gleefully given Shido a report that there was dissatisfaction in his group, did you know? It would reward him with an extra spark of approval when Shido would nod and thank him, and Akechi would probably be given an assignment to break one of them later.

In this life, Akechi looks away before he can truly identify who they are. He waits because the moon has now freed itself to shine the grass in front of them into gleaming strands of shadow that shiver when a small breeze sweeps through, and the exit he was planning required him to pass right through that bright silver night. Akechi listens to the two men reminisce over simpler times. Highschool, how they had both been mediocre at hurdles but still kept up with the team until third year. Of their families – of a father who made a series of bad investments at a time where they couldn’t afford it. Of a man who promised his wife he’d come home with better returns than his brother, this time.

“…I know this is bad for Shido, but I’m glad that Madarame was taken down. I heard he had adopted a son who was monstrously talented. The art directors have been in a frenzy identifying who truly drew Madarame’s works, and that kid of his represented a solid thirty percent of his recent exhibitions.”

“Wow. And he auctioned all his exhibits, right?”

“Yeah. That kid is worth… approximately fifty-two million USD? How much is that in Yen?”

“All I know is that the kid apparently lived in poverty all this time. For a father, he sure was happy to leave the kid to rot.”

Someone whistles, before one of them stubs a cigarette under his shoe. “Well, that’s a sign that we’ve come out for air too long. Taka, it was nice to chat with you again. I hope we don’t meet too much. We all know the walls have ears.”

The other man hesitates a moment before he turns to leave.

“…Take care, alright?”

“Will do, Taka.”

The two men walk away in two opposite directions, towards the back and front entrances and Akechi steps out from where he’d been hiding behind the corner. He crosses the lawn with quick, light steps, ignoring the large gate for a smaller one that unlocks when he slides an electronic key he’d prepared over it. Soon, he’s back in the Tokyo subways in his school uniform, looking like the Detective Prince just had a late errand to do before going back home.

A week later, a man named Hori Takamitsu lost an art exhibition hall due to legal complications with building compliance. He and his family were in the process of being prosecuted for further charges of compliance and wilful neglect.

The other man, Akechi noticed next time, was standing closer to Shido’s side.

* * *

After school, as promised, he brings Yusuke to the private hospital where most of the Coma patients were being housed for further medical testing. The hospital staff greet him with happy surprise when he arrives. Akechi admittedly hasn’t been here for a while even though some coma cases were automatically shifted here. If the family members didn’t mind contributing their family member to research or didn’t want to hire a whole unit of medical professionals to house a comatose person at home, the doctors here (funded by the victims of the coma cases) would be all too glad to gain another subject for reference. However, many victims were affluent enough even with Shido’s meddling to have relatives place them in more private, trusted medical hands, away from ‘shady medical research.’

“One of Endo-san’s friends,” Akechi smiles as he gives the researcher in charge a visitor’s permission slip.

He’s already mentioned the matter of Yusuke’s visit to Shido, who was so embroiled in campaign affairs that he ordered Akechi to ‘ _not mention such mundane matters in your reports again.’_

It suited Akechi just fine, as he leads the way through hospital halls. Yusuke follows like an awkwardly proportioned duck, tucking himself in carefully as he bows to passing nurses and doctors, eyes wide and curious at the clean lines and twining apparatuses that the research unit have attached to their patients. Although his Emperor Arcana had, even in his past life, a natural air of elegance in his speech and actions, it was painfully obvious that Yusuke was out of his element.

Osamu Endo was placed in one of the middling rooms. As he had no wealthy patron and his existing family had wanted to wipe away the chances of needing to cover his medical costs, they had signed an all-permission research form in return for Endo’s continued stay in the hospital for as long as necessary. Even Akechi didn’t read through all the experiments they tried on patients with all-permissions, and he’s unsurprised to see that Endo is hooked up to nearly double the amount of machinery than some of the other rooms they passed. There’s no window in Endo’s room, nor visitor’s seats. Nothing at all, except for machines and logs.

Yusuke steps forward delicately, eyes falling on what was once his fellow apprentice.

“Endo-san,” Yusuke murmurs. One slender hand reaches out, tentative, and grasps the other’s hand. “Long time no see.”

“Would you like a chair, Kitagawa-kun?”

“Ah, yes. That would be… most kind, Akechi-kun.”

It doesn’t take long for Akechi to find two chairs a few rooms down, declining an offer from a passing nurse to help as he manoeuvres them into Endo’s room. Yusuke’s already talking by the time he places them down.

“…be glad to hear that Madarame-sensei is in jail without chance of parole by his own request,” Yusuke is saying. “I’d heard from Yoshimi-san, you were close when we were all at the atelier, and Akechi-kun about your efforts and what you were trying to do. I’m sorry, Endo-san, for looking away when your ink-paintings were displayed as Madarame-sensei’s own. I know just how—”

Yusuke is startled when Akechi’s hand lands on his shoulder, pressing him slightly down.

“Oh, Akechi-kun. You’re already back? Ah, the chairs,” Yusuke registers the chair Akechi had placed directly behind him, and he blindly sits on it. “Thank you again, Akechi-kun. How long are visiting hours again?”

“Generally until six. After hours are for family only,” Akechi replies, and Yusuke nods before turning around again. His eyes are pensive as he lets go of Endo’s hand and tucks them back onto his lap, before twining his fingers together. Thoughts are obviously churning slowly in Yusuke’s head, and Akechi is familiar enough with the process of how these Arcana work that he lets the moment grow until Yusuke sighs.

“Akechi-kun, as a member of one of the main investigation teams digging into the Phantom Thieves as well as the comas, you must know my past quite well.”

Akechi pauses a little, observing the slightly hunched line of Yusuke’s shoulders. Yusuke doesn’t merely wear his heart on his sleeve around those he trusts – he embodies it through his whole body language, and there’s more to him than mere tiredness.

There’s an, Akechi observes, intriguing sense of defeat in the air around him.

“…Yusuke Kitagawa, adopted son of Ichiryusai Madarame,” Akechi starts slowly, through the small beeps of machines, the wires that Yusuke’s eyes trace forlornly. “Attending Kosei High, a renown Christian school with an arts focus, on a full art scholarship for his demonstrated talent in visual arts, particularly in traditional mediums like paints, ink, and otherwise. Has been given temporary emancipation after his teacher, Madarame, was found to be a plagiarising fraud with a potential murder charge by his own admission. After mandatory psychological testing, it is suspected that Yusuke Kitagawa has suffered from neglect and abuse under Madarame’s care—”

“It wasn’t always like that,” Yusuke interrupts.

Akechi stops talking.

“The atelier wasn’t always so run-down,” Yusuke says in reminiscence. “And when I was younger, it was filled to the brim with Madarame-sensei’s... Madarame’s students and apprentices. The best of the best,” Yusuke remembers fondly. “Yoshimi-san is the best sculptor I have ever seen, Fujihara-san created introspective oil paintings on any subject that took his fancy, while I was merely the beginner starting to hold a brush correctly. Endo-san was the last of our original group, and he had the most beautiful way of creating traditional ink works. When I was merely making stained blotches when I tried calligraphy, Endo-san knew how to make ink spread and bloom, mix into blurs that were distinct as fog, the moon, and a shadow of a tree all with one stroke…”

Yusuke trails off into silence, taking his eyes off Osamu Endo’s face to flit his eyes over the jumping lines of his heart rate on the monitor next to him.

“Akechi-kun,” Yusuke asks. “Have you ever had someone you loved from the bottom of your heart?”

“…Perhaps,” Akechi replies neutrally, and Yusuke looks at him.

“If you have, then you must understand how something that blooms from the bottom of your heart has the purest of qualities,” Yusuke says, shoulders bowed like it held the weight of the world upon them. “That pure bloom is your truth, a truth that only now I realise is _subjective_ , a truth that seems perfect because it is unquestionable as the Earth revolving around the Sun. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Ichiryusai Madarame is the greatest teacher that I could have ever been honoured to have.”

Yusuke, Akechi notices, has a habit of worrying his thumb against his index finger when he’s tense.

“Did he ever teach you?” Akechi asks with a genuine seed of curiosity. Even in the past, Yusuke Kitagawa had the prerequisite skills to stand and win in national-level competitions. His art had sometimes been some of the highest bid pieces when auctioned underneath Madarame’s name.

Had Yusuke, in his prodigiousness, learnt all of that from the talent of his fellow apprentices?

Yusuke’s replying smile is empty, slightly self-mocking as he relaxes the clench of his fingers. Endo’s heart monitor continues to beep.

“Madarame held my hand when I was younger and learning my first calligraphy script,” Yusuke shares. “I remember his hands were large and warm, so steady that I was amazed when he dipped the brush in places that still made no sense to me, tracing kanji over the rice paper in impossibly smooth loops that eventually spelled my name. He said to me, _‘your name is beautiful, Yusuke. It’s an echo of a famous artist, you know.’_ He laughed when Endo-san immediately copied my name into three different other styles, and we stuck them around my room together. Fujihara-san was cooking downstairs, while Yoshimi-san was getting some groceries. These memories persisted even when Madarame accepted so many students we were forced to sleep on the floor, sharing a blanket between two. When he started taking our works in tears, citing that he had to keep us fed, that he didn’t ever want to see us starve…”

“Ichiryusai Madarame was manipulating you.” Akechi states, voice hiding a shard of steel.

Yusuke’s hand shakes even as he nods in agreement.

“When I see Akira, or the Thieves, or now, with you and seeing with my own eyes just how much harm Madarame has caused, I cannot help the utter disgust and hatred that bubbles from within my heart where my pure belief had once occupied. It is a toxic poison that paints over all my memories. Madarame’s tears, a mere manipulation. His care, a farce for more money. His beauty and philosophies that I so admired the greatest, sweetest lie. Oh,” Yusuke suddenly interrupts himself, blinking in sudden realisation. “Akira-kun introduced me to the dichotomy of the human heart – the duplicity and darkness underneath the veneer of civility that is our society. But my art, I can only paint despair. Anger. Beauty is still out of reach, and I wonder if...”

“Your artist’s block is still occurring?” Akechi asks, remembering back to the time where Yusuke had appeared in front of his dorm and asked him to squat for the sake of his ‘ _artist’s block’,_ and Yusuke nods.

“Akechi-kun, would you think it is because I am still naïve to the truth? That even now, somewhere, I am still that blinded boy living in Madarame’s atelier, denying reality when it’s presented in front of my eyes?”

“What reality are you denying, Kitagawa-kun?” Akechi asks this boy in front of him – Fox, in his memories, who had been calm, collected, and always a voice of quirky logic within the Phantom Thieves. He had never presented anything but patience and passion – and Yusuke Kitagawa shakes his head.

“My foolishness, perhaps. For believing in Madarame.”

Akechi looks away from something within himself as he states.

“You were a child.”

“So now I have no excuse,” Yusuke replies as he gently straightens Endo’s arm. “Akechi-kun, my deepest apologies for requesting another favour when I understand how busy you are, but may I ask if you know where Yoshimi-san is? I have lost track of him after he left a homeless shelter.”

“I’ll contact you when I have the details,” Akechi promises, and Yusuke smiles, truly, for the first time since they entered the hospital.

“My gratitude, Akechi-kun. I am… determined, to face the truth that I have been denying for so long. The past I turned my eyes away from, the harm that I must have abetted from my inaction. I’m sure it’ll help my continuing quest to grasp the meaning of my art again.”

Yusuke pauses, before continuing.

“For some reason, I cannot help but feel like I will reach an understanding of the truth when you’re by my side, Akechi-kun. You are an inspiring source of stability and support for me. Thank you again, for this opportunity to meet Endo-san. Would you mind providing me a few minutes with Endo-san alone?”

“Of course,” Akechi rises from his seat, smile firm on his face as he slides the door open and closes it gently behind him.

Before he manages to close it completely, Yusuke has already continued speaking.

“Where was I? Yes, Endo-san. I wished to express my apologies…”

**Emperor Rank 2 – Yusuke Kitagawa**

* * *

The Phantom Thieves were still riding the wave that Kaneshiro’s confession made.

Akechi’s on the Phan-Site, the popularity poll that he was so familiar with in similar numbers as he’d remembered around this time, this year. It was hovering around thirty-five percent approval for the just nature of the Thieves. The last time Akechi was in this point in time, Shido had called him up to report on any strange activity in the Metaverse to explain the Change of Hearts.

He’d been able to catch a glimpse of the Thieves in Madarame’s Palace, and with the evidence accumulated from the detectives in Shujin about a group of outcast teenagers who all had ties to previous Phantom Thieves members, they had hatched a plan.

The issue with Madarame and Kaneshiro was the fact that the Thieves were choosing their targets.

To first start controlling them, to ensure their success, it only made sense to control who they were targeting next.

Therefore the MEDJED plot, the social pressure placed on the Thieves to target Okumura. Akechi, suggesting Sae. They were merely a bunch of teenagers, after all.

The train stops at Shibuya, and Akechi walks out alongside the human tide. There are posters all around advertising the fireworks festival on Monday’s holiday, and Akechi remembers that the Phantom Thieves chat had exploded in enthusiasm over going together until Makoto had shut them all down reminding them of exams.

Yusuke’s comment of, [I have already finished my exams] was met by universal booing. Haru helpfully uploaded all of her notes with advice and notes on each of the major subjects, while Makoto sighed when she saw and said she was being ‘too nice to them’.

Akira had been silent until he was challenged to a fifteen question pop quiz, in which he answered all of them correctly in under five minutes. It had promptly sparked another wave of depressed reactions from Ann and Ryuji.

[Ryuji: While we’re at it, how’re the third years going?]

[Ann: Yeah, this will affect your uni applications! Let’s not focus on us – you guys are priority here!]

[Makoto: I have prepared all of my exam notes well in advance of anything that happened with Kaneshiro. Judging from past examinations given by Shujin, I’m very confident in my chances to rank first again.]

[Haru: Well, I know what I was weak at and worked hard at it!]

[Haru: Please don’t worry about me.]

[Haru: How about you, Akechi-kun?]

[Akechi: I’m in the same boat as Niijima-san. I’ve prepared notes well in advance, and I have a general idea on what questions they will be throwing at us.]

[Akechi: I’m confident that it won’t be too hard.]

[Futaba: lol ‘niijima-san’. Just call us by our names already, GA!]

[Akechi: I’ll refrain from commenting.]

[Ann: Oh man, I’m feeling real nervous about spending all night cleaning so I didn’t have to study…]

[Ryuji: We need worse friends.]

[Akira: ;___;]

[Ryuji: Bro, don’t take _that_ out of everything seriously.]

[Futaba: Mwehehe. Imagine having _exams_.]

[Ryuji: Ah, shaddup and enrol into Shujin with all of us already.]

[Futaba: No. :P]

Though, all said and done, the exams were just as Akechi had expected. Shido usually knows to respect his exam periods, knowing that it would be strange for his image as an honour student to neglect exams for television interviewing, or an unexplained absence.

Although the exam contents were admittedly vague in his mind, he did remember the general impression of the exam itself. The exams were still easier than they’d been the first time around, and Akechi came out of the whole experience with enough energy to join the Thieves as they all headed to LeBlanc to meet up.

“You know, if you just studied you wouldn’t be so stressed over your marks,” Makoto says serenely as she takes a sip of coffee. Sojiro had gone out to get more groceries, giving Futaba a fond head pat and the whole group an appreciative grin when Futaba hadn’t hesitated to move from her counter seat to sit in the booth Akira had settled in.

“I’ve looked at how you study, and I have no idea how you’re alive,” Ryuji groans, head on the table.

“I’d rather _diiie_ than study five hours a day,” Ann says, curling up in her chair and resting her head in the booth’s corner. “But I’d also want to die if I get worse than _Ryuji.”_

 _“_ Oi,” Ryuji replied with no heat. “Watch your ‘ _I cleaned the whole night and didn’t sleep to procrastinate’_ mouth.”

“As if you’re any better,” Ann retorts lazily, rolling her head to the side to squint at him. “Mister ‘ _I video-gamed so hard because slacking feels sooooo good’._

“Oh, I’m sure your marks won’t be too bad, you two,” Haru says with an encouraging smile. “If I remember correctly, last year’s exams were marked pretty leniently, so you guys might have a better chance to get good marks than you’d expect!”

Akira hauls his bag open, and Morgana hops onto the table to shake out his fur.

“You’re too kind, Haru,” Morgana says with a pointed eyeroll.

Ryuji feigns wiping a tear.

“Ah, kindness. Something I can’t even expect from my true bro right across the table because I bet you’re goin’ to be top of the class or somethin’.”

“That’s because I study,” Akira replies flatly, adjusting his glasses for maximum effect. Makoto nods in approval against the hurt noises from his fellow yearmates.

“What did I miss?” Yusuke asks as he opens the door, and all the Thieves reply to him with a wave or a greeting. Not even two seconds into Haru’s explanation that they had only arrived themselves, Akechi emerges from the Metaverse in a shimmer and nauseating warp of reality right behind Ryuji.

“Woah!” Ryuji shouted before he places a hand on his racing heart. “Crap, Akechi! Why’d you always do that! Can’t you just use the front door like a normal person?”

“I can’t guess where you’re sitting in the Metaverse,” Akechi responds dryly as he picks his way around towards Akira’s side of the booth, where Futaba was already in the process of squishing Akira into the corner to make more space to seat three. “And I don’t want the Conspiracy to link LeBlanc as a place of operations yet.”

Akechi glances over Akira carefully for a sign of that strange, raw intensity that he’d shown. But Akira looks completely normal with the Thieves, although he does send Akechi a smirk and waves down towards the free seating at the edge that Futaba sacrificed Akira’s ribs for. Akechi perches there, and Futaba triumphantly links her arms with the both of them before promptly going back to tapping furiously on her phone.

When Akechi glances over her shoulder, Futaba is playing a mobile port of an action RPG that he’d heard vague reviews of. Recurring Fantasy 15?

“That’s so cute,” Haru says from where she’s seated at the counter with Makoto, watching the three with the eyes of someone who just watched a cute baby animal video or something equally offensive, and Akechi vaguely suppresses his reflexive scowl (he tugs his arm experimentally against Futaba’s bony elbow, and Futaba had squeezed it in warning), and smiles instead.

“So, why did we call a meeting today?”

“Dude, the fireworks festival, of course!” Ryuji exclaims, energy suddenly shooting through him as he sits straight with a beaming grin. “It’s our celebration party for you and Haru joining the team!”

“We will, of course, go have food afterwards,” Yusuke says calmly from the counter.

“Heck yeah! I feel like I haven’t had proper street food for _ages._ And if we don’t get any, we can just eat ramen or somethin’.”

“We’ll figure it out on the day,” Ann waves it off with a smile. “Anyway, what do you two think?”

Futaba’s elbow locks him a little tighter when he shifts, and there’s an uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest when he sees the open faces of the Thieves watching him with the friendliest smiles on their faces. Ryuji has an expectant grin, leg obviously jogging underneath the table even though he isn’t hurrying them for an answer, while Ann yawns from her curled place in the corner, giving him a warm smile when he catches her eye. Haru has a nervous smile on her face all of a sudden, while Makoto gives him a rather neutral smile.

He can feel Akira’s gaze burning a hole on the side of his face.

“…I don’t mind.”

“Yes, one down. What about you, Haru?”

“Well, I would dearly love to join,” Haru starts, before she straightens up and tries to wave her hands to mitigate some of the disappointed looks that had started to appear on the Thieves’ faces. “Truly! I have always wished to attend a festival like this with a group of friends. It sounds like fun,” she says, smile starting to get a little tinged with resignation. “I know I would have the loveliest night out with all of you.”

“Then what’s stopping you, Haru?” Morgana asks, jumping from his spot on the table right onto Haru’s lap.

She doesn’t even look phased, making sure Morgana is balanced before stroking his fur.

“I… My fiancé has invited me to watch the fireworks with him. And I, apparently my father has already agreed for me to go with him.”

“But don’t you hate that guy?!” Morgana yowls in protest.

That makes all the Thieves pay attention.

“Wait, what?” Ryuji whips his head around to look at Haru.

“Is he a jerk?” Ann demands, and Makoto narrows her eyes.

“I know you wouldn’t hate an individual without reason, Haru.”

Yusuke stops analysing the Sayori on LeBlanc’s wall and looks at Haru with an inquisitive gaze.

“Umm…” Haru falters, and it’s, predictably, when Akira starts speaking that everyone falls silent.

“What’s the issue?” Akira says quietly, in his voice a promise to solve whatever Haru would voice. It's the one that brooks no opposition, filled with determination. When Akechi watches how Haru cracks against it, he's reminded a little why he hated that voice once.

“My fiancé… isn’t the nicest person. He has a reputation of womanising, if I were to put it politely, and he has a fairly possessive and jealous streak. One of the main reasons why I was banned from continuing my friendship with Akechi-kun was because he didn’t want me talking to other men.”

“Ew,” Ann makes a face. “A controlling bastard and someone who can’t keep it in their pants.”

“That may be… putting it lightly,” Haru says delicately, and Morgana huffs.

“Well, I’m not going to let you have a miserable Fireworks Festival night with your pervert of a fiancé while we’re having fun! It won’t be fun, otherwise!”

“Yeah, we’ll all be miserable if we know that’s happening to you!” Ann insists.

“Wow. Your fiancé is no joke,” Futaba interjects for the first time. The game on her phone has switched to something close to a scrolling information feed. “Apparently he goes through paid escorts like candy, and his powerful politician grandpa has snuffed out more than a few scandals when he punched the women he were with. He has anger issues alongside all of that narcissistic stuff.”

“He’s, he’s never done that to me,” Haru says weakly, but she’s cut off when a fist hits the table.

“We’re not gonna let you _anywhere_ close to this abuser,” Ryuji says, and Haru’s eyes are wide when she stares at all of them. Akechi thinks she must have had training before, on how to control her facial expressions and such, but right then she curls her arms around Morgana and hugs him tight. Her lips are wobbling as she smiles.

“I know Aikido,” Makoto contributes. “Tell me if you need him knocked out any-time.”

Akechi doesn’t even need to look behind him to know that Akira would have that look again – the one where he promised, merely by presence alone, that things will be alright, and Akechi speaks up for the first time. He looks at the gentle slope of Haru's shoulders, the slight defensiveness of them, and remembers the girl who had smiled brightly a night years ago when she invited him to her school festival.

_"I'd love to go to the school festival with a friend!"_

“Haru-san, let’s have fun at our welcome party together.”

When Haru’s brown eyes meet his, the slight melancholy that he’s always seen in Haru begins to erase. She starts to speak, stopping to clear her throat before she continues.

“Yes, I would love to. Thank you, everyone. Even though I haven’t even awakened my full Persona yet, you’re all…”

So strangely, horrifyingly kind. 

“You’re one of us now,” Yusuke smoothly interjects. “Welcome aboard.”

“Now let’s start Operation Haru: Lets Go To The Fireworks Festival Together!”

* * *

On Monday evening, the Thieves all cluster around Haru’s mansion in Mementos.

“Ugh, it’s muggy in Mementos too,” Ann groans. She’s in a t-shirt and shorts, although her hair and face were completely styled and made up. Her yukata was carefully folded into the bag she’s holding. Makoto was in the same boat, while Futaba had grimaced at the yukata in her closet (Mom, she remembered underneath her grimace, had always been the one to help her pick and put yukata and kimono on) and she pulls on a decent t-shirt and baggy capris instead with a big sniff.

“Haru, are you there?” Makoto calls up, and this time Haru responds.

“I think I’ve successfully tricked them into thinking I’m sick, but the stairway downstairs is crumbled!” Haru goes back to her private balcony, looking down at them. “There’s no other way downstairs, and if we delay any more we’re going to be too late to change and watch the fireworks, right?”

Yusuke glances at his watch.

“That’s correct,” he says to the world in general, and Haru nods.

“As I thought. Alright, then, there’s no other choice,” Haru says lightly, tapping her chin in thought. “I’m going to jump. May someone please catch me?”

“Wai-WAIT, HARU!”

Haru doesn’t waste any time. She’s obviously already thought about it – she’s holding bedsheets in seconds, cheerfully tying one end to the balcony’s banisters and checking the knot. After throwing down the bag holding her yukata down onto the ground with a friendly call of 'look out, everyone!', Haru shoots them all a sweet smile and disregards their protests to swing herself over the railing and down the bedsheets. There’s still an approximate three-metre drop until the ground.

“I’m going to let go now!” She calls, and there’s a simultaneous dive from Ryuji, Makoto and Yusuke to catch her while Ann watched with her hands over her eyes. Futaba, poking her skinny arms, had opted for recording the whole collision between the three instead, laughing when they landed in a tangle of limbs.

Haru ultimately, somehow, lands in Akira’s arms in a princess carry instead.

“Oh my, Joker. You’re quite strong,” Haru says as she pats one of Akira’s biceps in fascination. “As reliable as always.”

Then she glances at Akechi beneath her eyelashes, before she whispers something into Akira’s ear.

Akira drops her like a hot potato, and Akechi’s intrigued to see that Akira’s started to blush to his _ears._

What had Haru said to him?

“Let’s go then,” Haru says cheerfully as she gets up, no worse for wear. She gives a worried tut when she sees Makoto, Yusuke and Ryuji still grumbling to themselves as they brushed themselves off, but picks up her bag without any other comment. “Anyone have ideas on where to go?”

“I do,” Akechi interjects before anyone else could say anything. “Follow me.”

* * *

The place Akechi leads to Thieves to is an upscale, rooftop bar. Although it was an establishment that sold alcoholic drinks, there was no age limit as the hotel that hosted this bar was proud of being family-friendly. To buy alcohol, individuals had to show their ID at the counter instead of a blank ID check on entry.

Akechi had booked them a table in advance using Mitsuru’s account and a fake name, and after giving the girls (and Yusuke) time to change into their yukatas. Akechi lead them through the marble shine of the floors and the crystal chandeliers that hung above the foyer.

The rooftop bar was half-covered from the elements with a glass cover, and their seating was close enough to the live band that the surrounding patron’s conversations didn’t drown out their music.

“Wow, you paid for all this?” Ann says with wide eyes, even as Yusuke had already grasped the menu for the complimentary set meal that came with the booking with riveted eyes. “You really didn’t need to.”

“I can chip in the costs if you want,” Haru offers, adjusting the sleeves of her lavender yukata, birds flitting across its sleeves and along the back. Somewhere to the left, Morgana and Akira are staring down at the packed streets underneath them, with Morgana’s childish voice loud as he talked about how ‘they look just like sardines! It’s hot enough already without so many people around!”

Akechi crosses his legs and leans forward to rest his cheek on his hand. His feet unconsciously tap out the rhythm of the band as everyone on the rooftop pauses when they hear an announcer state that the fireworks were going to start.

There are a few seconds where the sky lights up in blooms of pink, gold, blue and silver. Their vantage point lets them see even the individual trails of smoke from points of flame, fireworks closer than what anyone would see from the ground when there’s an ominous rumble of thunder.

Akechi shakes his head just as the sky starts pouring with rain.

With a shriek, the people on the rooftop who wasn’t underneath the glass roof ran for cover, as Ryuji gawped.

“Woah, imagine if we were caught in that!” Ryuji exclaims as he stares at the sudden sheets of rain that poured down from the sky. “The weather report said nuthin about a rainstorm!”

“Summer rains are unpredictable,” Morgana replies to Ryuji as he jumps up from the table. “We really lucked out with Akechi’s booking, huh.”

“I could just imagine us being caught in the rain!” Ann says. “I mean, did anyone even bring an umbrella?”

When everyone shakes their head with a no, Yusuke closes the menu with a snap and smiles at all of them serenely.

“Even if the fireworks we were anxiously anticipating for the past week are now ruined beyond repair by the elements of nature itself,” he states, “we can at least have a satisfying meal. I will go order my dinner now. Will anyone go with me?”

“I’ll go, Yusuke!” Haru’s eyes are laughing as she stands up. “I’m quite hungry after all of this drama!”

“I totally understand,” Yusuke says graciously. “Let’s go, Haru-san.”

“Just Haru, please,” Haru insists as they leave, and in a second, after making a victory noise at whatever Futaba was playing on her phone, she hollers over her shoulder.

“Akira! I hunger! Feed me and GA already! I’ve texted you what I want to eat.”

“I have no preference,” Akechi tells Akira when he passes with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you in advance, Akira.”

Dinner is uneventful in comparison, and all the Thieves are groaning in satisfaction when they leave the hotel’s premises and stare at the pouring sheets of rain in front of them.

“The subway entrance is _right there_ guys,” Futaba waves dramatically, pointing at the subway entrance that was, despite its proximity, basically invisible because of the rain. “It’s literally across the road. If we sprint, I bet we won’t get too wet!”

“Welp, me and Akira are down. Akechi, what about you?”

When Akechi gives him a lazy shrug, Ryuji looks motivated.

“Okay, one, two—let’s go!”

“Wait, Ryuji! You’re just not afraid to run because you’re not wearing a yukata!” Ann shrieks behind Ryuji, whose yellow shirt had already darted across the road and disappeared down the tunnels with the small shadow of Futaba right behind. “Urgh, whatever. Someone, cover me! Akira, you’ll do! Stand on the side with the rain—”

“Ah, but there is a certain aesthetic to the thought of drenched clothing after rain,” Yusuke muses to himself, and with that he’s off, walking slowly after Ann and Akira.

“Akechi-kun, would you?” Haru asks him with a playful smile he’s never seen on Haru Okumura’s face, and when he doesn’t object Haru grabs his arm. There’s a hesitation there, and Akechi senses that she’s ready to let go of him any time. And Akechi looks into the eyes of one who had told him that he was unforgivable and nods.

Haru’s smile brightens ten-fold.

“Then let’s go!”

By the time the two join all the others, Ann is miserably picking at her yukata, the fabric clinging to her legs and arms, Makoto already reaching into her bag for the pair of tights she wore before she changed into her yukata. Ryuji shrugs, consoling Ann by saying at least the _whole_ night wasn’t like this, while Yusuke is examining his drenched reflection in the blurry plastic of an advertisement poster with Futaba hanging next to him, and by the sounds of it, giving him running commentary about his looks.

Somehow, Akira looks completely fine and that attracts a bit of Ann’s ire as she demands some of his _‘charm secrets, come on, Akira!’_.

“Well, somehow we always end up like this,” Morgana says philosophically, sitting on someone’s bag, before turning to Haru. “I hope you at least had fun?”

Haru bends down and gives Morgana a kiss on the head.

“This is the best night I’ve ever had,” Haru says with a shred of honesty that’s too bright to be untrue. There are crowds now, surging in through down into the subway from the packed streets, and Haru picks Morgana up, before turning to face all the Thieves. She bows deeply.

“Thank you for bringing me with you, everyone!”

“Oh my gosh, don’t bow!” Ann immediately pushes her up. “What are you even doing that for?”

“You’re soaked too, Haru, don’t think I missed that,” Makoto says critically.

Other words are lost, as Haru shakes her head. Her hair is already drying, puffing back up into its normal shape as she laughs.

“Someone has to figure out a way to get me back to my room, by the way,” Haru exclaims cheerfully, and all the Thieves freeze.

That is, until Akechi sighs.

“Akira literally has a grappling hook.”

“That’s one problem solved then,” Haru says with a cheerful clap of her hands. “Then, would you guys all mind escorting me back home?”

“Of course we don’t mind! Just let me change back into dry clothes,” Ann says, grimacing at her damp yukata. “I’m already feeling gross enough, let alone walk in this for half an hour.”

Cheerful banter is somehow maintained throughout the whole trip back. Although Akechi doesn’t truly contribute, no-one seems to mind as they somehow walk in a way that implies that Akechi can join in their conversation any time he wants.

And Akechi doesn’t really know what to feel, when Haru waves them all goodbye, safely back in her room. When the Thieves joke and laugh and glance for his reactions, when they say goodbyes with promises to meet up again, see you soon, chat to you later and...

Just. Strange.

**Judgment Rank 2 – The Phantom Thieves**

* * *

The next day, Akechi blinks twice at the number of messages he has on his phone.

[Ann: Hey, Akechi! Sorry for messaging you so randomly, haha. I was just wondering… Can I talk to you about Shiho for a sec?]

[Yusuke: I was wondering if you would like to eat a meal together.]

[Hikaru: Hey, Goro! I finished my arrangement, wanna hear it?]

[Akira: Are you free?]

[Haru: Akechi-kun, there’s something that I wish to clarify. Would you have a chance to have a meeting any time soon?]

[Sae: There’s been a breakthrough.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi_mi drew Goro with some beautiful marigolds in the foreground to celebrate 4000 kudos. Thank you Hi_mi, I love how happy he looks!  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CK1w4PIFE6V/?igshid=tuzlver7tyo4  
> \+ everyone on discord who sends art without links that are beautiful all the same. Thank you very much. You guys are all _ridiculously talented._
> 
> And continuing on that vein, thank you so much for your support! Your comments and kudos feed me, and you can't imagine my shock when I looked at the kudos count this week and saw _4000 holy_. I'm very grateful you guys like this fic so much, thank you! I honestly thought I would have more time before I wrote something new for another thoughts and things chapter, so I'm open to any ideas you guys have (no promises on when it'll happen, but I'll try my best to write something for it.) Umm. Ummm. What else is there to say, except I hope I can bring this story to the end!
> 
> Marigolds will be confidant soup for the next arc ^^. You know those parts of the games where there's nothing to do so you level confidants like crazy?  
> Yes. _power-levelling_. I initially thought the PT arc would end around chapter 50 but it looks like it might go a bit longer just because of how many confidants there are, aha. :,) 
> 
> Next chapter - Sae, Shiho, someone (shido) gets a clue, Jose, Haru, Makoto and _hopefully_ Hikaru. And maybe Ryuji. And some PT time.  
> ... _aaaaaaaaaaaaaah I swear this arc is wholesome look isn't this chapter so uplifting ahahaha *coughs blood_


	45. Chapter 45

Sae sits in her usual spot in the quiet area of the Police Headquarter's lobby, dressed in her usual well-fitted black suit, buttoned up with a turtleneck despite the heat of the day. Her bag is placed neatly on the seat next to her as she frowns down at her laptop with her lips pursed. Her legs are crossed underneath the table as she solemnly looks down at what she’s reading.

Akechi knows that it isn’t because she doesn’t have a perfectly respectable office provided to her in the Public Prosecutor’s office, especially for one who has climbed high enough to join the Supreme Public Prosecutor’s Office at such a young age and had the license to represent at the highest level of court.

Sae just hated the wait. To get evidence from Police Headquarters to her office at the Public Prosecutor’s needed multiple phone calls to arrange at times, so she parked herself right where she could get the quickest access to information.

It’s classic Sae, and it isn’t simply habit that lets the easy, comfortable smile (slightly young, channelling some youthful optimism because Sae liked to see young people striving hard for their goals) slide across his face.

“Sae-san, good afternoon,” Akechi greets as he enters the glass room, and Sae looks away from her screen for a moment to give him an acknowledging nod.

“Akechi-kun, thank you for coming. I know that exam season has just finished for you.”

“Finishing exams for this season only means I can catch up to all the hobbies and such I missed,” Akechi says with a bright smile, putting down his attaché case onto the floor and sitting in a seat across from Sae. “I have a hobby of cycling around Tokyo when I have the free time, but I can’t remember the last time I did so.”

“And here I am requesting your time,” Sae says with a small frown and a sigh, and Akechi is quick to shake his head and place wave his arms in front of him placatingly.

“No, no. My internship is definitely something I want jump straight back into as well. The office is always kind to my schedule and studies and being here and helping individuals like you makes me feel honoured to be able to be given this opportunity.”

Sae has that look on her face that knows, exactly, how he’s sweet-talking her. But her expression has lightened up, small smile on her face when there was none, and Akechi truly settles down in his seat.

Although she seems as impeccable presented as ever, Sae has a few more bobby pins to pin back hair that’s a little more unruly than usual. There are faint folds in her suit, indicating that this might be her spare set of clothing from her office from another day spent over-night investigating.

Japan has no specialised agency to investigate corruption. There were only the Police, who were obligated to investigate every crime that occurs, and the Public Prosecutor’s Office. The Prosecutor’s Office is nearly urban legend by how admired their officers were, maintaining justice at the highest levels and keeping Japan safe. A decision to go to court was basically a guaranteed conviction for any victim of a crime after investigation with the 99% successful prosecution rate.

“Sae-san, you texted me about a breakthrough?”

“Yes,” Sae says with a severe frown on her face. She’s sighing even before she passes him a file, and Akechi takes it with expectation that Sae has finally found the catch that made Akechi recommend Sae to choose Yukimura’s case from the beginning. “See for yourself.”

And when Akechi scans the file, he knows he’s right.

Representative Yukimura had been accused of mail fraud, providing pensioner’s mail discounts to organisations that, although dealt with the elderly, had been denied permission to use the pensioner’s discount for their activities. Using that as collateral, Representative Yukimura gained the support of the organisations he colluded with, resulting in his stable political trajectory despite the political turbulence in his party. The fraud itself, however, costed the Government a few hundred thousand yen by the time the fraud was detected.

This attracted the attention of the press, the legal system, and sparked major action as people sparked an outcry over Representative Yukimura’s exploitation of the rights of pensioners for his own political gain.

It was a major case for Sae, and many people were watching its proceedings. That’s not the issue, however. Sae was used to the pressure.

Just two, major things, Akechi thinks as he places a considering look on his face.

One, is the fact that Representative Yukimura was innocent.

This is something only Akechi knows.

“To think that the signature on those frauded documents were slightly flawed,” Akechi says in surprise. “You consulted an expert and they said that there’s a likelihood that the signature on the fraud documents is fabricated?”

“Yes,” Sae confirms, rubbing her eyebrows. “This brings into question a lot of things. For example, who was trying to frame Representative Yukimura? Yukimura’s secretary was framed right alongside him, sitting in prison himself, and the six companies that benefited from the fraud are competitors. There is absolutely no sign of them colluding with one another, and if that’s the case, then it’s impossible for them to have six identically flawed signatures.”

Two, is the fact that Sae was placed on a fixed trial.

The Conspiracy will make her lose this case, whatever she tried.

“This is concerning then, isn’t it?” Akechi replies as he places the documents down onto the table. “Sae-san, I know how important winning this trial is to you.”

“The Director has been pushing me to bring this case to court because the press is hounding him,” Sae says with severity, taking back the documents. “I’ve been dragging the investigations for this case on for too long, and the Director is unhappy. Since I failed to finish investigating Kaneshiro’s case before the Thieves and my second major case investigating the Thieves and coma cases has no progress, the Director has placed his attention on this one. If I don’t prove any results…”

Sae trails off grimly, and Akechi fills in her silence.

“You’ll lose your chances of promotion again?”

The bait that the SIU Director dangles in front of Sae is doing the trick, because Sae gives him a quick, terse nod.

“Do you have any conclusions, Akechi-kun? If I can find the real culprit, I can prosecute him instead of Representative Yukimura,” Sae says. “But I can’t see any angles with the information in front of me. You often have remarkable insights, so I was hoping you may have a clue or an angle I’m missing.”

This time, Akechi shakes his head. It’s genuine.

Even in the future when Yukimura appeals his guilty verdict with new evidence that proved his innocence, it hadn’t indicated the real culprit. Since Sae had started the case on his recommendation, Akechi had spent some time thinking the case through end to end.

Whoever it was had hidden themselves too well.

“I can think on it more, Sae-san,” Akechi promises. “We can’t discount the fact that a politician must have many opponents that may want him disadvantaged. If we had a few more months, I’m sure we can narrow it down—”

“I don’t have a few more months!” Sae exclaims, slamming the table in frustration. “I need a name _now!”_

It takes Sae a few moments before she widens her eyes at Akechi, who sits there unphased. She averts her eyes, straightening herself and coughing lightly.

“…My apologies, Akechi-kun. It seems my emotions got the better of me.”

“It’s fine, Sae-san. It must be a stressful situation,” Akechi soothes. “Although I can admit I’m surprised at your outburst, to try and adhere to justice while being pressured on all sides is something I admire about you.”

This time, it’s Sae that lets out an undignified snort.

“Justice,” she mutters, and Akechi cocks his head to the side.

“Hmm? Did I speak something strange, Sae-san?”

“Nothing,” Sae dismisses. “Merely the fact that I’ve long realised that justice, although an idealisation that has great value on its own, rarely serves us anything of tangible value.”

“Value, Sae-san?” Akechi asks with a tinge of naïve curiosity. “What do you mean? I would’ve thought the common way to think about it would be that we are agents who serve justice instead.”

Sae sighs. One long finger taps the metallic surface of her laptop, violet nails making dull clicks that fill the silent room as she thought. Her eyes watch the world outside their glass enclosure – suited people come and go, some dignified and proud, some drooping from exhaustion as they step in and out of sun-drenched streets into the cool interior of Police Headquarters.

“Akechi-kun, you are a bright young man,” Sae starts, before stopping. “Do not get me wrong. I admire your spirit to adhere to your concept of justice. But I’ll warn you now, as someone who has been in the industry for much longer. Doing things with justice does nothing sometimes, except paint a large target on your back and hinder you from going to places you need to be.”

Sae’s voice is hard when she averts her eyes to something on her screen, and she starts tapping on her keyboard.

“The world is harsher than any ideal. We all have to fight to survive. Winning is important when you have everything to lose. Especially if you’re a prosecutor, imagine upholding something like _justice_ when the consequences of losing one case for your career is so detrimental. Justice only ever served my father—”

Sae cuts herself off, looking frustrated at herself for a moment. Then she’s all professional severity again, eyes glaring holes not particularly into Akechi but somewhere slightly to the side, intense all the same.

“Anyway, Akechi-kun, now you’ve heard the whole story, can you please review what I have and see if there are any new angles that we can approach our true target with,” Sae instructs. “Meanwhile, I will continue to build my case against Yukimura.”

“So you are going to prosecute him,” Akechi says with a tinge of disappointment in his tone, ignoring the familial slip. It’s not as if Sae feels entirely unrepentant right now either, with the tense guilt in her posture – it seems moving MEDJED’s appearance back a little has lessened the load on her shoulders. Last time, MEDJED had been the straw on the camel’s back. “Don’t worry, Sae-san. I won’t stop assisting you because of your decisions, especially since it’s still merely a chance that Yukimura’s signature was forged. However… I hope you understand what you’re doing,” Akechi sighs.

“I do,” Sae affirms. “Now, your assistance please, Akechi-kun.”

“Yes, Sae-san. Let me review the case first, it has been awhile…”

It seems, Akechi muses to himself as he reviews the case files, that things were going according to plan.

**Moon Rank 5 – Sae Niijima**

* * *

Helping Sae leads deep into the evening, and the night is entirely dark by the time he steps back into Shibuya with attaché case in hand.

Tokyo evenings are always crowded around Shibuya, the bustle of people only slightly abating with the night-crowds. It feels nearly claustrophobic, and Akechi can’t help but take a moment to hide in an alcove and slip into the Metaverse.

Empty streets, a relatively cool breeze.

When he passes the entrance to Mementos, Akechi pauses next to it, before he stops himself.

Now was hardly the time to talk to Jose. Most of the confectionary stores he was thinking of taking Jose to would be closed. Traditional wagashi in Tokyo wasn’t hard to find, but there had been a traditional store that was relatively quiet near the Ogikubo area that he knew.

By this time of night, the store would be preparing to close up.

He’d have to do it soon however, Akechi thinks to himself as he starts to walk away. Otherwise, Jose would have no reason to adjust the Metaverse Apps for the other Thieves…

_Wait_

There’s a deep whisper from the depths of his soul, as Raguel makes him turn back.

There’s… nothing there. Just the same old entrance to Mementos.

 _You are not truly seeing_ , Raguel chides, and this time Akechi sees the small wavering… star?

It’s a walking, wobbly folded star that’s clambering awkwardly up the steps of Shibuya station. On it, Akechi recognises the same style of wavery penned lines that Jose had used to once draw his concept of parallel universes while he narrowly escaped death.

“Jose?” Akechi murmurs when he scoops up the struggling, walking paper star, unfolding it when it didn’t seem like there was any harm in doing so.

In big, extremely unevenly loopy characters, Jose wrote:

[ _Hi, Mister!_

_Sorry about this, but I can’t go to the top layer for now._

_If you want to see me, go deeper!_

_There’s someone who seems angry, you see._

_Well, I guess I did stop them watching you._

_Maybe you’re very interesting?_

_Of course you are, you’re a Wildcard!_

_If they’re bored, they should get a new hobby instead of getting so angry…_

_Anyway, I just wanted to tell you this._

_I think you might need to bring me sweets though._

_I’m not sure if I can go out._

_Hmmmmmmmm…_

_Oh well!_

_Jose]_

So, Akechi thought as he carefully tucked the note into his pocket.

The owner of the Metaverse was angry that Akira and Akechi had slipped from his vision.

Perhaps some of his initial thoughts had been right after all, on the fact that they were mere pieces on a chessboard for some greater being.

Akira Kurusu, Golden Boy Wild Card and his tragic foil, Goro Akechi, enacting a drama for that voyeur of a God…

No, Akechi thinks as he strides quickly out of Shibuya and towards his dorm. Mitsuru would come back soon with the results of their social experiment with the reporters and rumours.

At that point, he’ll contact Akira and tell him all of his suspicions.

Perhaps, as the current contractor of the Velvet Room he’d have a clearer idea of what’s happening.

* * *

“Thank you for coming, Akechi-kun,” Ann says in front of the hospital the next day. It’s another sunny day in the depths of Tokyo summer, and both of them are already sweating slightly just from the light walk from the station to the hospital entrance. “It’s just, I, Shiho is really struggling and no matter what I say it just makes her withdraw into herself more.”

Ann is wringing her hands, truly struggling to find the words. Ann Takamaki is usually cheerful, or at least transparent in why she’s unhappy. Perhaps a wet yukata, or her hairstyle being messed up. Fixing whatever was wrong will immediately result in a bright smile and a ‘thanks for that!’ as she continued to happily go about whatever her business had been.

A simple girl with simple needs. Naturally optimistic, especially around friends.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ann confesses as they step into the antiseptic smell of the hospital, aged white corridors greeting them alongside a blast of cold air. The emergency area was unusually crowded today, people lined up in chairs with various illnesses and worried faces, and both of them carefully skirt around a woman being carted around in a wheelchair. “We used to, well, me and Shiho used to never keep secrets from one another. Shiho's good at jokes and I’m good at laughing, as silly as that sounds, and we never really thought about how our friendship worked because it just worked so well but then _Kamoshida_ happened and now I don’t know…”

Ann spits out Kamoshida’s name with a rare sort of hate before she breathes deeply.

“Sorry, Akechi-kun. Shiho keeps telling me how you’re a wonderful listener and maybe I just kind of listened to that too much and now I’m blabbing all my feelings at you too. Sorry. I just thought maybe if I can’t get through to Shiho you could. You,” Ann’s smile wobbles again, in the way that only ever happened when something happened to Shiho, “have a way with words, you know?”

“Takamaki-san, you don’t have to apologise,” Akechi says. “I’m only happy to be of assistance, as long as you’re not uncomfortable. I don't want to intrude on your time or relationship with Suzui-san.”

“Never,” Ann vows, shaking her head so strongly her ponytails flare out a little. “As long as you can help Shiho, I don’t care it’s not me who’s doing it. That’s a stupid reason to get angry over, isn’t it? Wow, one of my friends helped my best friend feel better. I’m going to be jealous!”

Akechi laughs as they near Shiho’s ward.

“You’re right, Takamaki-san, as always.”

“Call me Ann,” Ann insists, and Akechi sighs with a wry shake of the head.

“Takamaki-san, do you want to come in with me to talk to Suzui-san?”

Ann gives him an exasperated look before she pauses. She clenches her loose t-shirt in a tight fist.

“No, I can’t,” Ann shakes her head. “I think… if I’m in there, Shiho will lie again. She does that sometimes because she’s so kind. She should stop doing that for me. I’m stronger now, you know? I’ve had Akira to help me, and even Shiho tells me I’m strong now when I visit her and lift some weights. Still though, I understand there are things she’s more comfortable talking with you about than me. As expected of the Detective Prince, right? I’m glad you’re our friend now.”

Ann laughs, and it’s the slightly painful laughter of someone forcing it entirely too much. 

“I’ll go get a drink in the café upstairs while you guys talk! Call me or text me when you’re done, okay? I bought a few magazines with me, so I won’t be bored if you take a bit long. No rush!”

Ann is off just like that, with a wave and a too-bright smile as she pats the tote bag under her arm and heads towards the staircase down the corridor. They’re near Shiho’s room anyway, and Akechi knocks the door lightly, announcing himself.

“Suzui-san, it’s Goro Akechi, here for a visit. Are you free?”

“Akechi-kun!?” Comes a voice on the other side in surprise. “Come in, don’t ask! It’s not as if I’m doing anything anyway, on this bed,” Shiho gives him a smile when he slides open the door. It’s the one that doesn’t reach her eyes, without the mischievous twinkle that he’s now learnt to realise may be Shiho Suzui’s true character before everything happened. “You usually visit later, don’t you? And it hasn’t even been a full week since your last visit! You’re kind of like a clockwork sometimes, Akechi-kun, so this is really a surprise.”

Shiho is a girl who appreciates honesty. She’s also shrewd enough to notice when Akechi’s starts to use the slightly negotiating tone he uses when he starts to try manipulating a topic, so Akechi merely settles his case on the floor next to the bed and sits down on the only visitor’s chair in the room.

Ann’s of course. It seems she had brought over even more things. A colourful stole that’s big enough to also be a small blanket, bright rainbow colours gently folded, the stack of magazines on the side refreshed to current ones. He even sees photographs sticking out from some of the pages, of a younger Shiho and Ann, and Akechi doesn’t let his eyes linger when he looks back at Shiho.

“Takamaki-san asked me to talk to you.”

And just like that, Shiho’s smile drops right off her face.

“Oh, she did? I should’ve known I couldn’t fool Ann,” Shiho chuckles with a small insincere laugh, staring down at her still hands on the bed. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve been taking care of myself really well. Keeping up with my diet,” Shiho looks up at her ceiling as she lists them off, “doing all my physical therapy. Talking about all my emotions to the therapist when she comes, saying all the things that she wants to hear. They’re all saying that I’m recovering really well.”

“You neglect to state your own opinion on the subject, Shiho-san,” Akechi says after a pause where Shiho doesn’t look anywhere near him – just straight upwards, past the wire frame that hung curtains that weren’t in use right now, because Shiho was the single occupant. Shiho had once shared to Akechi that there were exactly eighteen rectangular roof tiles in her room, and number two and four had cracks in them, with number three a mysterious stain that went vertical instead of horizontal. It looks like a butterfly some days, Shiho had said, but it also looks like some ancient undiscovered hieroglyph or something.

Shiho liked dead languages, she shared on that day. Something about reclaiming something that everyone thought lost. Making meaning again, out of something that even the world had abandoned and saying it out loud.

 _‘And this one,’_ she chuckled as she drew a shape in the air, ‘ _means nose. But it also means contempt. I wonder why? Did Egyptians flip their nose a lot at other people and be like, ew?’_

Shiho had gotten sick of the ceiling in a single day of being kept in this room.

“I told Ann about moving to another school the other day,” Shiho says. “The fact that I’m going to Shizuoka after I recover. Ann told me she understood, but then she had to go on a very long toilet break after a few minutes. I knew what she was thinking. Did you know, Akechi-kun? She still blames herself you know.”

Shiho’s voice gains a bit of wistfulness.

“Silly Ann. It’s not her fault. It was painful for me to lie here knowing I couldn’t follow her and _tell_ her that. Knowing that she’s thinking exactly what I was thinking too. We’ve talked about it so much. We’ll graduate Shujin together, go to the same university. We were going to live in the same dorm room and catch up every night because she’s going to choose fashion and design, and I don’t know yet but I know it won’t be either of those. We’re going to have weekly crepes, and it’ll be even more fun because Ann’s found some friends that apparently even you know, Akechi-kun, and we’ll finally get to try more than one flavour when we go out because we’ll all eat a bite of everyone else’s flavours. I’ll work off the weight since I’m going to continue volleyball when I’m in university, and Ann’s metabolism is scary so she can eat another carton of ice-cream and still look stunning, and I, I—”

And for the first time, Akechi has known Shiho Suzui, she starts to cry. 

She doesn’t bother wiping them. Her hands continue to lie on her blankets, as Shiho looks up at the ceiling tiles she hates and lets her tears drip down the side of her face.

“Akechi-kun, a week ago my doctor took a long weekend and the doctor that replaced her was a man and I freaked out,” Shiho says, voice shaking even though her eyes are clear. Like the tears were just a consequence of the topic even though she’s tensed like a livewire. She hiccups, her voice thickens from snot, and the sadness is starting to get tinged with something that Akechi can taste in the back of his own throat.

“I freaked out because this male doctor that looked _nothing like Kamoshida_ tried to adjust my leg,” Shiho continues. “He touched my ankle and I had a panic attack. He apologised immediately and retreated, and alerted a female doctor to attend to me, and gave me a card afterwards officially apologising with some sweets and I hated myself for making him do that. I hated this whole _thing_ , I wanted to get out, I had a moment where I wondered who I’d be if I didn’t meet Ann because I don’t blame her. I’d _never_ blame her, but I know and she knows that Kamoshida looked at me because Ann’s just so, so beautiful, and then for some reason he just fixated on _me,_ and I wondered, did I do something? Was it my fault too?”

“Suzui-san,” Akechi cuts in, and Shiho stops with a large gasp of air. She struggles to breathe until Akechi hands her a tissue, and when Shiho blows her nose, Akechi stares at her form on the bed and wonders how it has come to this.

He imagines how a voice in the dark helped when it was himself. A hand outstretched in the rain, dark eyes expectant underneath curly hair. A bright smile in a tanned face, sympathetic as he drew him into a hug.

Their problems are not the same. They aren’t.

He isn’t Akira, isn’t Hikaru.

Akechi swallows, dry. He looks down and sees himself the same as ever.

Spite, hatred, and innocence a mere faint memory. A justice, warm and bright that now tells him to _try._

“Suzui-san,” Akechi tries because he doesn’t know how. “Suzui-san, it’s not your fault. It can never be your fault. You are not responsible for an adult who is supposed to be protecting you hurting you instead.”

The words leave like ash on his tongue, and Akechi bites down on it. Changes the topic.

“Suzui-san,” he tries again, grasping for an idea that he thinks can get through to Shiho who lies there like she wanted to tear something, yell, scream, and says what he wishes someone had told _him._ Perhaps it is not the correct response, but he imagines if someone had reached out at him when he was young, sat him down and told him, “It’s… alright. Everything you are feeling.”

“Even if I regretted meeting Ann even though I don’t?” Shiho grits out, and Akechi doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

“Even if I wanted to kill Kamoshida sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I wanted to die but I _didn’t_ but I wanted to because I couldn’t imagine ever being _fixed_ but I want to heal too and I’m just a confused mess all the time and I _hate myself?”_

“Yes,” Akechi says. “Those are all understandable, Suzui-san.”

And Shiho laughs, though through her tears it’s only a heavy wheeze.

“It’s just that all _this_ just feels like something else Kamoshida is stealing from me,” Shiho spits out in anger. “Not only volleyball, my future, or my body, but also my school life with Ann and my childhood home and all these things that wouldn’t have changed if _he_ didn’t happen.”

“Suzui-san, will it help if I wheeled you to the roof again?”

“Why?” Shiho asks dully, and Akechi replies simply.

“To scream.”

When Shiho nods it’s a quick matter to transfer Shiho to the wheelchair and head to the elevator. There aren’t many people they pass as they head onto the rooftop, and when a quick glance around the roof revealed that there was no-one – understandable, since the sun was swelteringly hot, and the roof had no shade – Shiho heaved a breath in of thick Tokyo humidity and _screamed._

It’s an unintelligible garble to Akechi’s ears, and there are words mixed in there, he thinks.

But it’s a scream like Loki’s in his soul. Something that doesn’t need to be heard to be expressed, and Akechi stands silently behind Shiho when she breaks down and sobs into her hands.

“Akechi-kun,” Shiho says in the end, voice cracked and ruined, “I just want to smile from the bottom of my heart again.”

“You will,” Akechi says because he doesn’t know anything better to say that wouldn’t crumble something within him as well. He puts as much determination as he can into it, channels as much of Akira’s energy – the one that he has when he’s a leader, eyes bright and shining as he swore the world to you – as he can.

“Really?” Shiho whispers, and Akechi looks at the girl in front of him and thinks.

If someone as filled with hatred as Akechi can see the glimmer of beauty and hope the world had, sometimes, then someone as strong and bright as Shiho undoubtedly could.

“Yes. Definitely, Suzui-san.”

“…Thank you, Akechi-kun.” Shiho gasps a mouthful of air through her mouth, nose completely blocked, and she shakes her head. “Ann definitely came with you, didn’t she? Stay awhile, so I can have more time to prepare myself. I can’t… meet her like this.”

“Of course, Suzui-san.”

Shiho doesn’t manage a smile at all until half an hour later, and that’s when Akechi bows out of the room and texts Ann to come in.

She practically thunders down, and Akechi doesn’t stay to watch their greetings. He bows at them both, before taking his leave.

**Temperance Rank 5 – Shiho Suzui**

* * *

“Sis, here’s your dinner and a change of clothes,” Makoto Niijima offers in front of Police Headquarters, where he’d elected to retreat to after the ordeal with Shiho. It’s fortunate that Sae had been there, as she had welcomed his help as always.

The two of them had worked until the night became dark. Words had started swimming before their eyes and they had both looked up to see that the whole office was mostly empty except for them. It was around then that Sae’s phone had rung with a call from Makoto telling Sae that she was downstairs with her usual refreshments.

Sae takes the two bags with a tired smile.

“Thank you, Makoto,” she nods at her, before turning to him standing to the side. He’d followed her when she insisted. “Akechi-kun, this is entirely enough from a third-year student. You’ve been a wonderful help today. Thank you, but you should leave with Makoto.”

With a stern look, Sae waves them both out the door.

“Bye, Sis!” Makoto calls loudly before the doors close, and Sae gives her a casual wave over her shoulder before she disappears through the security gates and into the depths of Headquarters.

Soon, the two of them are standing outside the dark glass building, with only the bright green of the emergency lights behind them. The wide streets of Nagatacho are filled with bright streetlights that pool their offering in puddles of silver over bone-dry concrete, and Akechi sighs as he feels another long day seep into his bones.

“Wait, Akechi-kun. I have something I wished to speak with you,” Makoto says, and Akechi pauses in his step.

“Niijima-san?”

“I have a few questions,” she starts, and Akechi is intrigued enough that he stops and turns back towards her. “I just wished to ask for some tips on how you manage all your obligations every day.”

Akechi tilts his head in confusion.

“You mean… for your studies?”

“No,” Makoto denies, shaking her head seriously. “I was wondering how you could excel in everything you do while still being who you are. You gain attention wherever you go for your excellence,” Makoto continues, and Akechi is still confused when he answers.

“Knowing what you do of my schedule and fame, you want me to advise you on how to lie?”

“That isn’t it either,” Makoto immediately denies, before continuing a little judgmentally. “Lying is not a trait that I associate well with myself, with no offence to you, Akechi-kun. It’s merely… I wish to know more about you, so I can understand you better.”

“You’re talking in circles in a way that I’m unaccustomed to from a Niijima,” Akechi observes. “I’m used to both you and Sae just stating your intentions.”

“Fine,” Makoto nods. “My apologies. I wanted to explain your relationship with my sister, Sae. What are your intentions towards her?”

“Nothing negative,” Akechi replies, narrowing his eyes but widening his smile at the near interrogatory tone that Makoto took. He wonders if she even notices it, that hostility brimming underneath her tone, and he raises a few of his own defences in return. “We work in the same coma unit, and we’ve met before where I helped her solve a case. Since then, I’ve made my services available to her whenever she asks.”

“That’s all?” Makoto narrows her eyes in thought, and Akechi laughs with a little bit of an edge to his tone.

“What were you expecting, Niijima-san?”

“Nothing,” Makoto immediately states. “What are your intentions with the Thieves?”

“Just like yours, I’d imagine,” Akechi replies airily. “They invited me, I joined them. I’m glad I have them by my side so I don’t have to face the Conspiracy alone, and in return, I’ll give them my expertise.”

A flicker of… discontent on ‘expertise’?

Both Niijima sisters were truly too easy to read.

“Why did you join the Police?” Makoto asks, just as abruptly, and Akechi has had enough.

He laughs, and this time he doesn’t bother hiding the displeasure at this random _interrogation_.

What has he done to Makoto Niijima to make her treat him this way? They were hardly close. What right did she have to ask him these questions when no-one else was around?

“Niijima-san, what are you truly trying to answer?” He asks, and Makoto stiffens.

“I am just trying to get to know you better.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re the one who seems to hold all the answers I need in any case,” Makoto replies stiffly, brushing her skirt down as she shifts from one foot to the other. “I have recently been struck with a set of… insecurities, you can say, and I’ve realised they stemmed from you. I’m unaccustomed to this feeling and was advised to confront these emotions so I can move on.”

Of all things, Makoto Niijima was _jealous?_

Akechi doesn’t even have time to laugh when his mind freezes with the next words Makoto speaks.

“You, Goro Akechi, have the privilege of being the Second Coming of the Detective Prince after all. You're a genius of the generation, while also holding my sister’s trust alongside the rest of the Thieves. You even seem to have plans already in place for the Conspiracy you told us about. You are useful wherever you go, Akechi.”

There’s an undertone of envy in her tone when she states how _useful_ he is, and something in Akechi that had already worn thin during the day snaps.

She just said _privilege,_ didn’t she?

His hand clenches around the handle of his case, knuckles white as he tries his best to stop the urge to wipe that self-justified look off her face.

“Privilege?” Akechi echoes, and Makoto nods without hesitation.

“It’s definitely a title that has given you much respect in the media and the public, Akechi-kun. It even attracts the attention of my sister.”

And Akechi sneers inside.

Privilege?

_What privilege?_

The Second Coming of the Detective Prince a _privilege._

In this shitty world that has only ever known how to walk away from him, where he’d always had to sprint twice as hard to even glimpse the back of what others had by their sheer birth. What did Makoto Niijima see? Not a disgusting orphan, surely, though she’d also think she understood as she was an orphan herself. But she wouldn’t. The pity Makoto Niijima sees in other’s eyes when they saw how she was raised by her sister because her father died _honourably_ in the line of duty was _nothing_ compared to how they snickered and pushed and bullied his mother for being a prostitute with a bastard son.

As always, he thinks with contempt, naïve. Makoto, protected by Sae’s efforts throughout the years, only knew the world through the books she read in her fancy, modern apartment. With her head filled with notions of justice from stories of her father and an honour student's longing for adventure.

She had a good head on shoulders that had always bowed to the pressures of her sister and now that she had finally confronted herself and created Johanna, Makoto was finally peering up and trying to grasp the things she wanted. Was this a step up from being a good-girl type of pushover?

Akechi knew, after all, she couldn’t help it. Makoto, at heart, is a person fuelled by what she thinks is ‘good’. She is a person who conducts herself in ways that she believes a ‘good’ person should.

Akechi knows that she can’t help being self-centred in a world that’s always been so small.

It doesn’t stop him from relaxing his shoulders. He softens that anger and sharpens it into a blade like he’d done so many times in his life. A thin knife, he thinks as he opens his mouth to reply, for someone who only knows how to wield hammers.

“And what exactly, are you doing to confront this ‘set of insecurities’, Niijima-san?” Akechi asks pleasantly. His voice is as light and airy as he ever keeps it when he’s on interview in front of cameras on things that weren’t political serials. Questions on his life, his hobbies, eating a cake or talking about his non-existent guilty love for small animals. The perfect smile on his face as he watches Makoto Niijima grit her teeth, that she finds so _infuriating._ “What do you expect me to do, now that you’ve told me of your feelings and how I seem to be so perfectly equipped with all these _privileges_ in your head?”

Makoto sucks in a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself.

“Well, nothing really,” Makoto says with a frown that’s so like her sister’s. Only Sae frowned at her future, and Makoto has ever only frowned at herself. Frowning, in such easy judgment. Her red eyes glare up at him flintily as she brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. “I just wished to open a conversation about this topic, because you obviously know quite a bit more about managing your time and resources.”

“Yes, advice. I see. So you want to know how,” Akechi says agreeably as he puts a hand to his chin in mocking thought, “to manage your life, your time… your _jealousy,_ Niijima-san? How perhaps I can share you my… _Secrets to success,_ perhaps?”

“N-no!” Makoto bursts out. “I wasn’t trying to become you or anything, I just—”

“So you merely talked about my privilege and usefulness to those around yourself,” Akechi says with his smile ever in place. “I’ve heard of how you joined the Thieves, you know. You wanted to prove your _use_ to the people around you and found the Thieves. Are you feeling threatened because your role as Master Strategist is something I can undertake as well, Niijima-san?”

Makoto’s hands are in fists. Akechi isn’t particularly concerned.

He’s seen Queen fight many, many times. Her Aikido is as textbook as everything else about her.

“I thought you would be more mature than this,” is what Makoto resorts to saying with her eyes narrowed, and Akechi takes the redirection of the topic from her onto him with as much grace as he allows.

Arguments were boring, after all, if the other just suffocated underneath his heel. Not everyone can be like Akira, who has never been flustered with the sly jabs and attacks Akechi slips into their conversations.

“Maturity to tell you it’s fine to be the way you are, Niijima-san?” Akechi asks, his politeness a taunt. “To tell you that you should work on your feelings? That your growth and achievements will come with time, and this envy you feel towards what you see as my ‘early success’ will wane? You aren’t unintelligent, Niijima-san,” Akechi says as he looks around the wide streets of Nagatacho around them. Only one security camera, recording only. Futaba is most likely watching anyway, and he can ask her to modify it if they continue standing around any longer. “You already knew what I just said. If that vapid validation was what you sought, then you are speaking to the wrong person.”

“Then what should I be asking of you then, Akechi?” Makoto practically spits out, and Akechi laughs.

“What do you want to hear?” Akechi asks back, smile so wide he lets his eyes curve a little into the crescents that so many of his fans thought was ‘cute’ and ‘genuine’. “Something kind, perhaps, a salve to your wounded pride?”

“No.” Makoto denies strongly. “Tell me what you see.”

It’s spite that has Akechi drawing his smile back to show a little teeth.

“What I see, Niijima-san? Are you sure?”

When Makoto Niijima stands there boldly with the one thing that Akechi admits he admires from her – Queen had a straightforward gaze, a black and white view of good and evil that he’s long lost – Akechi lets the smile fade completely from his face. In fact, he lets all the emotions he’s been faking drop, and he stares straight at Makoto Niijima, who thought his life was a _privilege_ to be lived.

A privilege to have Shido for a father, to desperately claw for attention and affection and _recognition._ To be trapped, constantly, under a magnifying glass, his friends shot at, targeted, nearly killed, distanced for their safety and trying to redefine his own worth every single day he finds that he’s been so wrong about so many things—

“The Makoto Niijima who struggled underneath Principal Kobayakawa was a pushover, goody-two-shoes who let everyone walk over her because of her insecurities over being a useless burden to her sister, Sae Niijima, who clothes and feeds and pays her bills with no expectation except good grades and a successful career. Confronting Kaneshiro, joining the Thieves… It must have felt good, Niijima-san,” Akechi continues as he observes Makoto’s tight jaw, the shoulders that are struggling to stay straight and undaunted. Come to think of it, he hasn’t exposed his thoughts for such a long time. “That validation you must have felt, joining the Thieves who, while warm-hearted and kind and strong, lacked a focus on strategy and background knowledge. You felt their friendship, given so easily, and felt like you belonged because you were _useful.”_

“And what’s so wrong with that?” Makoto asks defensively, and Akechi smirks.

A lone car passes, a flash of headlights that gleam across the dark glass of Headquarters, the red lights from the brake as they turn the corner highlighting one side of Makoto’s face. At least she doesn’t look like she’s going to cry, Akechi thinks in the back of his mind.

“Nothing,” Akechi pivots on his heel and starts walking towards the station. He hears Makoto hesitate, before quickly catching up so they walked side by side. She matches his lazy strides with signature Niijima determination, and it brings Akechi a shard of amusement. 

“Nothing?” Makoto asks, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

At least she wasn’t a quitter. That’s something Akechi has to concede when he continues.

“Nothing, except perhaps you should think about the fact that… You have the Thieves now, Niijima-san. A group of friends who welcome you and never disregard your words. You’ve found the strength to say no to Kobayakawa, and your relationship with your sister isn’t bad. But you’re here anyway, because you see me and feel like I’m more _useful_ to these precious people of yours. You feel threatened by my place in the Thieves, and you envy that I also hold their trust. Their validation isn’t all _yours now._ ” Akechi slides his glance to Makoto, his smirk growing wider when he sees Makoto has pressed her lips into a thin line. “I think you’ve merely transferred your identity from Perfect Honour Student to Phantom Thief’s Strategist. With your insecurities rising again so quickly… Have you really changed, Makoto Niijima?” Akechi asks in a low taunt. “Have you truly addressed the issues that made you the insecure doormat that you were before you met the Thieves?”

“Enough.”

Makoto cuts through Akechi’s wandering monologue, and Akechi stops with interest.

He knew he was being slightly unfair. Makoto _did_ change, in essence, when she accepted Johanna. At least she wasn’t backing down and nodding at him in agreement.

Could it be that he simply had his expectations placed too high on the Thieves?

“You’ve said enough for me to understand your opinion on this matter. And I’ll declare this now.”

Makoto’s eyes blaze in righteous determination as she lifts her chin up with dignity.

“I’ll show you, Goro Akechi,” she says as she snaps her spine straight, glaring straight up at him. “I’ll make you understand just how much I’ve changed. I don’t need _anyone’s_ validation to stand strong by myself.”

Akechi laughs, before he smooths his smirk back into something pleasant again.

“I’ll look forward to seeing it, Niijima-san,” he says with a fake nicety.

“This was an enlightening conversation. Then excuse me,” Makoto bows once, before marching forward by herself down into Nagatacho’s station entrance. Akechi doesn’t insist on joining her, as her steps are slightly hurried and it’s obvious she doesn’t want his company.

It’s when her head has nearly dipped out of sight when the world freezes around him, just like he expected.

_I am thou, thou art I…_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow._

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the **Priestess** Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…_

[Futaba: ...Wow, that was a big roast.]

[Futaba: I’ll message and check up with her maybe]

[Futaba: Hnnnnnng… That’ll be so awks though]

[GA: Futaba, did you record down that car’s nameplate?]

[Futaba: Yup, don’t worry! It was just some passing diplomat guy, and he’s totally clear of any of the Conspiracy names you sent us.]

[GA: Good. Thank you.]

[Futaba: Bleh, bleh. Why’re you so serious all the time, GA? Lighten up a little!]

[Futaba: Oh! And the Featherman Pop Up Café is going to close soon!]

[Futaba: You have to come with me, ok? I’ve already checked your schedule head to toe, so I’ll know if you lie if I invite you on a day you’re _cleeaarlly_ free!]

Akechi switches off his phone and heads back home himself, wandering slowly back through the neon streets of late Shibuya as he responds to Futaba’s chatter every few minutes or so, and looks down at Akira’s photo of the day – a sunset, framed through the boughs and dense leaves of a flowering summer-camelia tree.

He saves it into his phone like he saves all of Akira’s attachments.

Then Akechi takes a moment to glance around, before he decides to take a photograph straight upwards. Towering office buildings looming upwards in an eternal stretch of small rectangular squares, the rainbow brightness of the street around him creating an affair that leeched colour the higher the perspective went, and he sends it to Akira in return.

[Goro: Good night, Akira. Sweet dreams.]

* * *

The next morning he’s greeted with screeching news from Futaba that after Makoto unsuccessfully searched for any open internships at Police Headquarters last night (there were none, of course, this late in the year), she applied to be a volunteer instead.

Akechi snorted at the thought of Sae’s reaction to that news.

The next was the scrolling list of texts that appeared on his phone again, and he groans just in time for a cheerful knock on the door.

“Akechi-kun,” Yusuke’s muffled voice comes from the other side. “Saito-san said that she’d prepared us a light breakfast today. If you’re quick enough about changing, then we can all meet in her office and eat together. I quickly changed at this news and wished to inform you to be downstairs in five minutes. See you soon, Akechi-kun.”

And with that, he hears Yusuke’s happy steps go down the corridor. Akechi glances at the clock.

…He could’ve slept for an extra half an hour.

But at the thought of Saito and Yusuke both waiting for him downstairs, Akechi hauls himself upwards and starts his morning routine.

By the time he’s downstairs, he’s as fresh-faced as ever, smile in place hiding the slight headache he has. Saito’s office smells like freshly cooked noodles when he opens the door with three bowls on the small table within. Yusuke already has chopsticks in hand, posed over his bowl as he chats with Saito about his latest project.

“You’re here, Akechi-kun!” Saito smiles up at him, and Yusuke’s smile gains an enthusiastic air.

“Good morning, Akechi-kun. Just in time to dive into these delectable noodles that Saito-san has made with her kindness and time. Truly, you are an avatar of generosity,” Yusuke says, completely enthused in picking apart the meal in front of him, and Saito laughs as she begins her own meal.

“You’re too much, Kitagawa-kun.”

“No, my comments are ever sincere, Saito-san,” Yusuke insists.

There’s a new photo on her wall, Akechi notices as he sits down in the place left for him, bumping elbows with them both. A photograph of Minoru awkwardly bent down as he held Saito’s hand on a walk through Inokashira Park, the two smiling at the stranger who agreed to take the photo for them.

Yusuke laughs in loud joy when he sees the extra egg Saito snuck into his bowl. He’s chewing it with cheeks bulged when Saito looks at Akechi. “You didn’t get one, Akechi-kun,” Saito explains a little apologetically. “I know your appetite is a little smaller than Kitagawa-kun’s in the morning.”

Akechi shakes his head and murmurs that it’s quite all right. The feeling brimming in Akechi’s chest couldn’t be smothered with a large inhale of the noodles in front of him. They’re slightly stretched – most probably because of Saito’s walking speed, the noodles soaking in the soup for too long – but listening to Yusuke’s enthusiastic chatter as he praises the soup, the noodles, the broth, how it reminds him of an artist he’s been following lately, famous for his depictions of still-life food and Saito’s little indulgent hums in response—

“Oh, I forgot to pour tea!” Saito exclaims, looking to get up. Since it was closer to Akechi’s corner of the table, he reaches out for the teapot and pours for all three of them.

“Ah, I haven’t smelt _pu-er_ for a long time,” Yusuke smiles as he promptly picks up the cup and takes a sip. “A wonderful meal, shared with two of my favourite people. What a great start to my day.”

“Indeed,” Akechi smiles, settling down a little somewhere when the warmth somehow doesn’t fade. It stays, somewhat choking, somewhat heavy, but not uncomfortable as Yusuke regales them both with tales of his endeavours to capture the glimmer of light that shines upon food with accuracy and atmosphere until he was feeling ridiculously peckish at one in the morning.

Then they’re both waving goodbye to Saito as they leave for school, wandering towards Shibuya Station together in comfortable silence.

How different, Akechi thinks as he pulls Yusuke back from walking straight into another person in his distraction, from the last time he’d been here, in this time.

In his pocket, his phone pings cheerfully with another text from Futaba. The sun shines brightly down at them as he parts ways with Yusuke to go on different platforms, but not before he manages to catch Akira on his way to Shujin.

Instead of the indifferent acknowledgment Akira greeted everyone with, Akira greets him with a small smile. Morgana pops out his head too, from his bag, and waves at him.

He changes direction and beelines for Akira. There were only two minutes left, after all, before Akira’s train came.

* * *

“The MEDJED plan is ready to be launched, Shido-san,” the IT President says to his leader through the video call, and Shido on the other side sits heavily on his office chair. The cabinet of wines and whiskeys was looking more attractive by the second after the exhausting meeting he’d had to sit through as their Party had talked politely around one another while clearly delineating lines on who would know what, who would get what position, whose loyalties lied with whose.

Fools, all of them. Why else had he needed to split and form his own Party in the first place?

“Finally. To think that rat distracted me from my plans for so long,” Shido sighs on the IT President’s screen. “So? Have you coordinated with the television companies to broadcast our message on all channels?”

“Yes, Shido-san. As Akechi-kun has stated, the Phantom Thieves will need a name and some keywords to find a culprit and change their heart. To incite the public and force the Thieves to do a task impossible for them, I have even contacted some of our contacts in the news industry to prepare the publication of articles and reports as soon as possible.”

“Good,” Shido replied, and the IT President is as impressed as always by Shido’s innate poise and charisma. Although his power is great and terrifying, his paranoia and demand for loyalty even more so, as one of Shido’s most trusted inner circle the President knew just how much Shido gave back.

He wouldn’t have been able to be the sole major share-holder and President of his company otherwise. He owed Shido his life, success, and future.

The President took the opportunity to give the rest of his reports, on what he’d been doing and how he could continue contributing to Shido’s success.

By the end of his report, the President paused.

“Shido-san, may I ask…”

“What is it? Don’t waste my time.”

“Yes, Shido-san. May I ask why you’ve been so preoccupied with your phone all this time?” The President asked, always interested in new tech and apps. Was it a clue for him to ask? Shido was going to be the next Prime Minister of Japan, after all. Who knew what sort of secret technology he could be using?

But Shido only laughs.

“Nothing but a gift,” he says as he leans back into his chair. It blocks the screen for a second, the President staring at the leather of Shido’s seat for a few seconds as he continued to speak. “A gift to show just how much of a God’s Chosen I am.”

Shido raises his arms and stares at the red blinking eye that stares right back at him.

“Although I can’t use it yet,” Shido muses half to himself, half to his audience as he turns back around, switching the screen back off. “But it’s a work in progress that’ll help some… plans along.”

The IT President looks at Shido so satisfied and swallows his curiosity and confusion.

“I’m glad that your plans are coming to fruition in this stressful time, Shido-san,” he tries instead, and Shido gives him an approving hum.

“Make sure tomorrow happens smoothly,” Shido orders, and when he sees the President nod he cuts the call. He switches on his phone again, and the red eye pulses as it looks up at him from his phone’s screen. When he touches it, nothing happens except a slight wavering in his peripheral vision.

The God had explained why he needed time – something to do with his role, or something else.

That didn’t concern Shido for now. He was not one to obsess over matters he had no say in.

Hah, this game just became more and more interesting. Had his son been so cautious of him since the beginning? Although Shido had thought he’d played his son like a fiddle, his son had been slyly manipulating his own strings, carefully hidden from Shido by his own hand.

Should he be annoyed, Shido asks himself,

Perhaps, if it was any other person. But no-one dislikes someone who only kept proving him wrong in the _best_ ways.

Truly a tool that only Shido could ever fully utilise.

But patience, Shido tells himself.

Well-made traps, after all, were never made in a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although apparently this is the roughest rough draft of rough audio she's ever roughed, galaxyofstars recorded herself reading marigolds chapter 1 and 2 and they're amazing! It was really enjoyable listening to you, galaxy, thank you very much! Here's the link, to anyone who wants to listen:  
> https://soundcloud.com/deanna-troy-446048148/marigolds-by-colbub-chapter-2
> 
> Happy Lunar New Year and Valentine's Day, everybody! I hope everyone had a wonderful time with family and special others or by themselves chilling doing cool things and ate lots regardless of anything. ^^  
> Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments too *bows*. It's kinda amazing we all got this far, huh, chapter wise and kudos/comments/otherwise. I'm always kinda honoured that so many people are all in this on the ride, so thank you for being here and hope this chapter was ok! I'm trying to burn through confidants, but they refuse to be burnt through and demand speaking owo. (sorry for being mean to you makoto uwu). I hope the interactions feel natural-ish um
> 
> I think I'll be able to control myself a bit more next week and burn through a few more, and maybe make it longer, because the PT arc isn't supposed to take _that_ long, but ehehehehe when have authors truly controlled their characters, right?  
> (Don't worry about Shido for now >:3)
> 
> Sorry for the textblock, see you guys next week! No matter what, Futaba and Haru are going to be featured next week, alongside everyone I failed to reach this week so... rip me. haha. ^^'
> 
> As a fun thing to finish this off, here's a small snippet that I direly wish I could write but probably wont:  
> *At a 4 AM fishing trip with Yu  
> Akechi: my god im not a morning person im so tired  
> Yu: DW, My Fam.  
> Yu: *whips out sunglasses  
> Yu: I have the perfect morning routine that'll wake you right up.  
> Yu: *dances Specialist  
> Akechi: what did i do in my life to deserve this pain/oh right yeah i remember


	46. Chapter 46

“Boss,” his subordinate protests in their offices in Nagatacho, and there’s this itch nowadays whenever Fusa hangs around this place that tugs on the edges of his mask into a scowl. No-one feels safe in the clean halls of any government building, even though Fusa has memorised every single name and face of Shido’s Conspiracy he could lay his hands on. “I won’t leave you behind!”

“Shut up and take your leave already,” Fusa growls at him, raking a hand across his scalp. “My god, I’ve already gone through this shit with Himari when I gave her a fully-funded three-month trip to Spain. You’d think that giving subordinates holidays was torture or something with how you guys are treating it.”

“You know that’s not the issue here, Boss,” his subordinate insists, and Fusa rolls his eyes and prays for patience. Somewhere in Fusa’s brain that just never knew how to shut up pointed out how Akio had just found a partner that he’d actually stuck to for more than five months despite being appropriately skeevy on the details of his job. The two men were disgustingly cute with one another even after he’d asked Fusa for Level 1 access and revealed a little more of what he did, and that’s _rare._ It’s gross and beautiful, and it’s exactly the sort of thing that Fusa had always fought to protect _._

(He still remembers holding Sato’s newborn because the stupid man was crying too hard from happiness that he had a daughter that his arms were shaking too much. He remembers knocking on the door with bad news, his wife holding the baby as she tried not to crumble when she took the envelope. Fusa loathed himself for only getting Sato’s head and a few bits and pieces back to her to be buried. He hated it when family members didn’t blame him, as Sato’s wife – Niko, a lady who was usually disgustingly cheerful – gave him a smile as if she didn’t know Fusa could’ve done _more_. She said ‘thank you’, as if she didn’t know the thanks stabbed something that’ll never become dull and desensitised. It’s the least Fusa can do to ply all the benefits he could twist at her, as if money can fill the hole that Sato left and stop thinking about it Fusa, fucking _shut up—)_

Fusa had taught Akio from the ground up even though he was hardly a year younger than him. Plucked him from some IT unit that was wasting his talents and got him everything he needed to succeed.

“Just fucking take it,” Fusa shoves the form at him again. “We all know they saw your faces at that disgusting party. I’ve seen your reports on what they were doing after I left.”

Akio’s face twists, and Fusa nods.

That party had only been affiliated to Shido, and membership to the party was a _‘privilege’_ that was rarer than it seemed. It was, ultimately, the mansion of a yakuza. It had ultimately been the ground of the underground elite.

Shido had inserted some of the very key actors he relied on, he wanted to control, that he wanted to get rid of, in what was essentially one of the most periodic, civilised, death rows that the _ya_ conducted. No visible blood would be spilt when lives were claimed. People will laugh over champagne even as they hounded their opponents into corners, and prey – in the know or unsuspecting – can struggle, perhaps, when their lives were flayed open as an open market, picked apart and eaten, before being sold as remains to any master still willing to take them.

And after status has been established, honour has been regained, revenge taken, and everyone necessary understood their new status quo, then the true horror of the night will unravel.

Tortured bodies that very night. A gang silently wiped out in a week. Factions, shifting in the underworld, and every single person involved in that Party who hadn’t escaped before the night truly began will be tied together in secrecy.

 _Hush_ , the winners of the night will watch. _We will see if you are truly one of us._

To think Shido chucked a _kid_ (Akechi was _eighteen,_ and what fucking dumb eighteen-year-old would come out of that completely untouched) into something like that makes Fusa feel like he’ll never, ever stop seeing the depths of what humans would stoop to do, and he’s seen shit. Akechi had enough shackles already without shouldering the literal eyes of the underworld.

Once you were in that pit, you never truly step out.

By witnessing so many illicit deals, to even breathe in the same presence of such high personages of the underworld - Shido had been trying to make himself Akechi's sole place of safety. The only one he could rely on to protect him from the weight of the underworld he personally placed on the kid's back and it’s, Fusa bites down on his thoughts on what, exactly, he wanted to do to Shido and focuses on the present.

“You and Himari were marked that day and that’s undeniable. You know you need to lay low, so shut up and take this cushy holiday to Barcelona with that fucking boy toy of yours. Wasn’t he asking you when you’re going to have a holiday?”

Akio’s lips thin as he exhibited the stubbornness that made Fusa select him in the first place. That didn’t mean literal _insubordination_. He should cut that stupid bleeding heart of his already, the idiot.

Fusa sighs and glances out the window of his office. It’s a moderate affair really, just a table and his comfy old chair with a few sad droopy plants, and the one place that he knew was completely, utterly safe. The Intelligence Agency is Fusa’s home ground, so it shouldn’t feel this way. He’s been laying his roots and network in the agency years before Shido’s political career was more than a joke in the backrooms.

How the fuck a hack who blundered around chucking money left and right to anyone who’d bothered listening to his claims of being the next Prime Minister had suddenly gained so many high-level sponsors and supporters (supporters that had been on Fusa’s watch list for literal _years_ for being skeevy as all hell) was still Fusa’s biggest mystery.

Then he’d went and investigated a little too far for Zane and bam, suddenly Zane’s whole life and career was on the line and he was a rat that was too useful to let go.

He could’ve wriggled free. Shido’s reach hadn’t reached too far yet (and, admittedly, Fusa hadn’t thought too much of the man anyway. The man had anger and self-control issues a mile wide and hadn’t been much to look at), but he’d been tempted to find evidence and haul in a bunch of leads that had been evading him all at once.

A job of a year, give or take. Then he’d be able to catch all the sharks in one go and call it a job well done.

Then, impossibly, Shido’s influence _grew._

Five politicians, ten. A judge fell into his influence, then another two. The SIU Director, the Police Commissioner. A few public prosecutors. Businessmen on the level of Okumura Foods and Handa Technology fell into his circle. Shido’s public image became immaculate with half the general population swooning over his smooth-talking, and he became a legitimately supported party leader with actual fucking influence on bills. With his power and money, he looped in more unscrupulous, less honourable _ya_ , and suddenly he had the magical, untraceable ability to comatose rivals wherever they were, whoever they had to be, in a completely untraceable manner.

The death threat to Zane’s life became real.

Then Fusa hunkered down and started seriously contemplating why he didn’t just nuke Shido the moment he could while compiling all the crap he had.

Not that he could send it upstairs when upstairs was literally _Shido._ There were others, of course, that would jump at the opportunity to get rid of Shido, but the issue lied in the fact that if Shido had one unfortunate talent in that braindead head, it was scapegoating.

Every single one of the cases in Fusa’s hands could be laid at another person’s feet if argued carefully. Shido, ever keeping his own hands clean.

(Fusa has tried before. Laid evidence to one of the Justices he trusted and befriended a while back, tried to get some accusations going. Somehow, the word got quashed. His evidence pointed in all sorts of directions instead of one. Newspapers who should have been eager to print out such juicy news stepped around Shido’s name and reported all sorts of miscellaneous news.

Then Shido laughed in his face, tapped a mocking finger against the table, and suddenly Zane’s unit was a solo team once again, his trusted friend comatose in hospital.)

“I won’t take a holiday all the way to Barcelona when you know that if me and Himari leave, you’re going to be left with Inoue, the _traitor.”_ Akio spits out Inoue’s name and yeah, maybe the kid tipped him off that Inoue was the triple agent, but he’d also been a useful tool to feed their enemies select information. “There’s no-one else now, Boss. Without us, they’re going to think they can finally hone straight onto _you_.”

“I’m not alone,” Fusa replies grouchily. “And you just indirectly admitted why I want you two out of the way. They’re honing on to you as we speak. Akio, I’m the boss, not you. _Take the leave.”_

Akio has that deep frown on his face, and the man opens his dumb mouth to bargain, just like he taught them to.

Not to their boss though. Fuck, he’d been too lenient with them. Stupid brats.

“Hokkaido,” Akio demands. “And not further, with me always on call. And on that chance that if you do die, I’ll make _damn_ sure that Inoue gets none of our hard work.”

“What about my all expenses paid Barcelona trip for two?” Fusa complains, flapping a hand at the leave papers on his table, and Akio laughs.

“You can take it. With that kid you’re always saying you want to recruit right out of university. I bet he’ll become your right-hand quicker than I ever did,” Akio replies with a touch of seriousness in his humour, and Fusa frowns.

“You know I can’t,” Fusa immediately replies. “Firstly, the kid will refuse because he has people on the line too, and it’s way too personal for him to give up. As for me…”

People, memories, flashed through his mind.

Ishida, his mentor always too eager to flail his cane at Fusa when he did something stupid. Sato and his stupid shaking arms that couldn’t even hold his baby. Takada and her obsession with purple lipstick and Goth Lolita when they went drinking. Goto and the amazing embroidery she would make as she listed out the week’s news. Ueda and his too-young smile as he gushed over whether he should develop a taste for whisky just for _‘vibes’._

Zane in hospital, shot just because he’s too fucking good for this world. Akechi, perched on his chair wanting to usher Fusa out to safety because somehow the kid still _cared_ after all the shit he went through.

Akechi’s name spilling out of Shido’s mouth as he praised his son for knowing how to ‘ _play the game’_ and cursed his mother in the same breath as a useless harlot for not letting him know sooner.

‘ _Could’ve made him great, that boy,’_ Shido had said, eyes trained on Fusa watching for a reaction. _‘He should let me shape him into who he can be.’_

“It’s my revenge too. You know that.” Fusa says darkly.

“Hokkaido,” Akio confirms all by himself with a nod and takes the leave papers. Fusa rolls his eyes. “I’ll lay low and worry about you, Boss. If you don’t give me frequent check-ups, I’ll lay the blame entirely on you when I abandon my boyfriend to the elements and rush back to Tokyo.”

“Ugh,” is Fusa’s only response. Akio gives him a cheerful wink and heads out the door after a respectful bow.

Is it time, Fusa asks himself. It’s not as if he doesn’t have a few dozen fake identities that he can use if he wants to disappear. The kid gave him a safe house too, linked to Kirijo Group of all things, and that’s a bomb that he’ll think about later since it’s convenient to have a safe space that Inoue wouldn’t know.

It’s not as if his plans have changed. To catch Shido, first get rid of his clean-up. He’s half that process, so he just has to get rid of the Cleaner.

If his whole team were here, it wouldn’t have been so hard.

 _Shut the fuck up,_ Fusa growled at himself, pulling the door open and locking it shut behind him. Further down the corridor, he sees Inoue lurking, as usual, wondering how to get his office open past all his state-of-the-art security and _heh,_ he smirks at him as he passes.

The kid’s number flashes into his mind for a second, as he tugs his tie loose to get some more air (Tokyo summer is a hot and sweaty affair that he wishes didn’t exist), but Fusa quickly drops it.

It’ll be shameful of him as an adult to not do all he could do first before relying on an underaged teen. The kid isn’t a tool, and wasn’t it exam season or something? High school already sucked ass even before uni prep and bastard fathers wishing to break you for their own sadistic joy. Akechi was an orphan honour student on a scholarship too. He’d get kicked out if his grades drop, huh.

Fusa shelves the thought of contacting Akechi firmly.

He has a lead; he thinks as he melds into the crowd.

If this is fruitful, maybe he can keep everyone safe by himself.

* * *

Ryuji was jogging his good knee as he scrolled on his phone (nice, Water Sigil Heroes was going to drop a unit he’s been waiting _forever_ for), waiting for his food to heat up in the microwave when he swapped tabs to check the Phansite.

Then he blinked twice at the barrage.

“Woah, what’s all this?” Ryuji stared wide-eyed at the scrolling QA box until he caught a few words – news, MEDJED, and he ignored the microwave beeping at him to move to the living room. He had to up the volume a bit – didn’t have to channel surf, thank goodness his ma liked to watch the news in the morning – when the news reporter on the screen switched pages in his notes.

“Regrettably, the cause behind the recent coma incidents is still unknown. Onto other news, the international hacktivist group Medjed has released a statement to the Phantom Thieves. These are the details of the message that are posted on Medjed’s website.”

The reporter pauses to clear his throat before reading out the quote that was playing behind him on an acid green screen.

‘To the Phantom Thieves causing an uproar in Japan: Do not speak of your false justice. We do not need the spread of such falsehood. We are the true executors of justice. However, we are magnanimous. We will give you an opportunity to repent your ways. If you agree to a change of heart, we will accept you as our own. If you reject our offer, the hammer of justice will find you. We are Medjed. We are unseen. We will eliminate evil.’

“For real…?” Ryuji muttered, shocked, immediately switching to the Phantom Thieves chat when a familiar name made him pause.

“Akechi-san, why do you think this announcement was made at this time?”

When he looked up, it was a strange feeling to realise that he knew a celebrity in real life (like, who’d ever thought a deadbeat like him would ever be friends with dudes like Akechi, right?).

Stranger still that he knew Akechi enough to feel uncomfortable, a little, because the Akechi he knew didn’t sit like that, or smile like that, or frown like that, or even speak like whoever was behind the screen at all—

(Ryuji still remembers the Akechi that he knew, resting an elbow on the table with a slightly bored expression on his face, legs crossed and body tilted towards Futaba and Akira, always, listening to the two and giving short two to three word answers. Akira hit a nerve of some kind, Ryuji remembers, listening in for a few seconds to Akechi talking some big brain stuff about the role of intent in crime or something and went straight back to arguing with Morgana over who got the last cheese.)

Ryuji pauses, squinting at the weird Akechi behind the screen who sat straight and proper, voice all gentle and _weird._

“I don’t know the details because it is a breaking case, but there’s no doubt that they were provoked by the Phantom Thieves. Whether it’s rivalry or a simple attention grab given the Phantom Thieves’ recent popularity, I cannot say… Regardless, it’s quite a concern.” Akechi replies, frowning gently.

Yeah, this was weird. Where’s the slightly exasperated attitude Akechi got whenever Ryuji complained about him appearing behind him from the Metaverse or even that no-nonsense tone he took in Osumi’s Palace when he talked to them? Who was this posh, soft-sounding stranger behind the screen? It didn’t feel like Akechi at all—

“A concern?” The news reporter asks right when Ryuji tears his eyes away from the (weird, weird) Akechi behind the screen back to his phone.

His fingers are soon flying.

[Ryuji: Hey guys! We gotta talk about Medjed!]

Weirdkechi on television sighs, looking sombre and serious as Ryuji split his attention from the chat and what his friend was saying on TV.

“Both Medjed and the Phantom Thieves are nothing more than groups that uphold vigilante justice. It’s possible that more people like these will continue to appear due to their influence, and vigilantism is dangerous even in the most well-meaning of hands. In that respect, the Phantom Thieves face a very serious crime.”

[Ryuji: Also, hey! What’re you saying, Akechi? The Phantom Thieves are totally just!]

Angry beeping from the microwave reminds him that his food was ready three minutes ago, and Ryuji puts down his phone to collect the container and place it, piping hot, onto a tablemat he had bought his ma as a present a few years ago. It had been awkward, walking into a hobbyist’s shop filled with hand-made tea-cosies and cute house-ware where he didn’t understand why cuteness was necessary, but when the woman behind the counter realised Ryuji was there to buy his ma a birthday present, she’d been ecstatic to provide him all the designs she could in his price range.

He picked something purple (his ma liked purple) with prints of smiling flowers that managed to be cute rather than creepy, and his ma had loved it so much it never left the table since then. It still gave Ryuji happy feelings when he sees just how well-used it is.

After inhaling a few bites of his rice (his ma’s egg-rice is the _best),_ he picks up his phone again.

[Ann: Oh my gosh, I just checked the news.]

[Ann: When did you even have time to record that, Akechi? You’re so busy!]

[Yusuke: Medjed… That name seems to come from one of the obscure gods from the Egyptian Book of the Dead.]

[Haru: To think such a group will target the Thieves.]

[Haru: I wonder if that naming has any sort of hidden meaning…]

[Makoto: I just saw the news. For some reason they think we speak of false justice.

[Makoto: I’ve looked them up. Medjed is a group of crackers who use the internet to illegally access and alter data.]

[Makoto: They’re internationally recognised as an activist organisation who upheld their justice by cracking into various transnational corporations and governments and exposed corruption through posting confidential documents throughout the web.]

Ryuji whistled as he read all of that. Hasn’t even been a minute. As expected of Queen, she always knew the answers, huh.

The word _‘international’_ sparked excitement in his brain though. Although Kaneshiro was still blasted on the news sometimes and he would never _ever_ regret helping Akechi with Osumi’s Palace (apparently she was doing well, whisked away by some of Futaba’s friends and Ryuji had – he’d been so _glad)_ , it wasn’t as if anyone heard about them helping Osumi.

If this Medjed knew about what they did to help her, they’d never say the Phantom Thieves weren’t just!

Before he could type out anything though, halfway through saying that they should target Medjed next because wasn’t it cool, Phantom Thieves versus International Hactivitsts or whatever (they’d be legit heroes!), the chatting app let out a ping.

[Futaba: Hehe, I did a good job, didn’t I?]

Ryuji blinks and quickly deletes the message he was typing.

[Ryuji: Huh? What do you mean?]

[Makoto: You know about Medjed, Futaba?]

[Futaba: Know?]

[Futaba: I _founded_ Medjed!]

[Futaba: Bow to me, peasants!]

[Makoto: But Medjed was most active two to three years ago. You must have been…]

[Futaba: Yeah, I was kinda bored when I was twelve and school wasn’t great fun. I might’ve been a little more angry and sad than I am now, haha and mom told me to like, express myself positively.]

[Futaba: So I decided, what’s more positive than getting rid of bad guys in the name of justice!]

[Futaba: It wasn’t as if mom minded when she saw my rock solid code, hehe]

[Futaba: I ditched it after awhile though, because some of the members that joined started doing stuff I didn’t really agree with but they weren’t like, breaking the rules y’know?]

[Futaba: So I took up Alibaba instead!]

[Ryuji: Holy shit…]

[Ann: You’re amazing, Futaba!]

Ryuji absent-mindedly chewed on another spoon of egg rice. Man, his deskmate learned piano since he was five or something and kept bragging about it, but he also kept mentioning how he’d watch these five-year-old piano prodigies perform pieces he’d been learning for months and ask himself _wow what was I doing? Who am I?_

When Ryuji was twelve, he still thought flicking boogers towards the teacher was funny and track was really the only thing that made him excited for school.

[Yusuke: Does that mean you have nothing to do with this?]

[Futaba: Yeah, not me. I’ve checked their IP too, if you wanna know. This post actually comes straight from Tokyo, from someone in a cushy IT company]

[Futaba: Man, the quality of Medjed’s members must’ve really dropped for this guy to have access to our site.]

[Futaba: I can shut this down now if you guys want! It’ll be an easy blast to just chuck some words back at them.]

[Haru: Would that be wise? I think perhaps more discussion would be a good idea.]

Akira was doing that [read] thing again, Ryuji thinks with a sigh, just as the icon he’d been waiting for started to type.

[Akechi: No.]

[Akechi: Don’t do anything. Futaba, have you double-checked the functions of the Metaverse App?]

[Futaba: Yup! It’s not even really an app, you know. But if you’re asking for permissions umm…]

[Futaba: It does have access to like, your camera and your speakers and receivers or like, you guys can’t speak into it to get keywords. Don’t know why about the camera though.]

[Akechi: So it can’t track what’s happening on the screen?]

[Futaba: I’m pretty 100% sure it can’t!]

[Makoto: Why are you asking, Akechi-kun?]

[Akechi: Don’t repeat any of this out loud. I have had recent confirmation that whoever sent us the app may also be monitoring the Thieves from the shadows. I will update you all more on the topic the next time we meet.]

[Akechi: The MEDJED plan is one planted by the Conspiracy. Whether or not you all find a solution to the MEDJED threat, Shido will take down his threats at the end by himself and claim the Thieves did so, vaulting you all into international fame.]

[Akechi: Meanwhile, Shido will vocally dismiss the Phantom Thieves.]

[Ryuji: But that sounds awesome! Why wouldn’t we want that?]

[Yusuke: Indeed. The more who believe in us, the more we can possibly help.]

[Akechi: …Let me finish.]

[Akechi: By doing so, he will set up a trap to scapegoat you all as the culprits to the coma cases I induce around electoral time. This will simultaneously frame you all as irredeemable criminals, bolster his popularity right before the election as the one who had been right all along, while shifting all blame in regard to his use of the Metaverse squarely on your shoulders.]

[Akechi: As you’ve undoubtedly noticed, I also oppose the Phantom Thieves on television. During your time of critical need, Shido plans for me – with my recovered popularity – to swoop in with a helping hand and lead you all into a trap. Then he can proceed to capture you all with the righteous support of the public.]

A few bits of rice fell out of Ryuji’s mouth as he forgot to chew. Akechi’s long-ass text shone clearly on his screen, and he read it again to make sure he wasn’t reading wrong. The news kept blaring on and on – they were inviting different panels and speakers to talk about the Phantom Thieves and Medjed. Usually Ryuji would feel ecstatic that they were becoming so _famous_ , but right now he felt a little sick at thinking that he’d really just nearly jumped into the trap Akechi was drawing out.

Hadn’t he _just_ been about to type that they should capture Medjed’s heart?

And what was that about someone watching them?

[Futaba: Then why’re we waiting?! There’s a million ways I can solve this without involving the Thieves!]

[Futaba: Like, I can pose as another cracker and just expose how this guy isn’t even a proper Medjed member and say it’s a prank]

[Futaba: Or like, I can just anonymously just wipe everything they did! If they were gonna come up against me, I’ll win 10 to 10!]

[Akechi: No, it’s a good thing to wait from another perspective.]

[Makoto: What are you planning, Akechi?]

[Makoto: As you are part of the Thieves now, you need to share your plans with us first.]

[Akechi: Akira, there’s something I wish to ask Morgana.]

[Akechi: What’s Morgana’s first impression of MEDJED?]

While Akira was typing, Ryuji quickly ate the rest of his container of rice and rinsed it in the sink with detergent and some quick cold water. His ma was working long hours again, and he didn’t want her to do more dishes than she needed to.

[Akira: He says, if he didn’t read what you just said about the Conspiracy’s plan, then he’d say targeting Medjed would definitely affect Mementos.]

[Akechi: As I suspected.]

[Yusuke: I admit your thoughts elude me, Akechi-kun.]

[Makoto: Yes, do share.]

[Ann: Oh man, this is all so much more than I’m expecting… I’m kind of scared of what you’re going to say, Akechi-kun.]

[Akechi: Have you all never thought about how you all received the Metaverse App?]

[Makoto: We have, but we never got far.]

[Akechi: Then all I have to say is this. You all already know Mementos reacts to the public consciousness. The larger the recognition, the deeper you can go.]

[Akechi: Even with my fame as the Second Coming of the Detective Prince, the deepest level of Mementos I could unlock by myself was Kaitul.]

[Akechi: _Think_. Someone sent you this app, watching your progress as you generate more fame, forging deeper and deeper into Mementos.]

[Akechi: Shido is a threat, but an undeniably human threat. There are other considerations, like the true nature of Mementos. Futaba and I have reviewed notes upon previous meta normal incidents that have concluded events of such a scale is usually a reckoning of some God.]

[Akechi: Are we playing into hands greater than we are?]

Man.

Ryuji blinks.

He can practically hear the snap in Akechi’s voice with that last sentence.

[Ann: Wait wait wait]

[Ann: When did we start talking about fighting _Gods_ here?]

[Ann: I’d already thought we were going against something really big just by targeting Shido…]

[Makoto: Why are you so sure that we’re being monitored through the app?]

[Akechi: I’m sure you’ve met him before. There’s a boy called Jose in Mementos, and he informed me that the app’s creator was watching us all through the app.]

[Akechi: He isn’t the type to lie. He also has a way to fix the surveillance, but it has been… difficult to arrange a time where we can all head down into Mementos.]

[Akechi: Technically speaking, we already have all the keys to stop Masayoshi Shido in his tracks. I have his keyword, his Palace’s location, and the general layout of his Palace. Shido, furthermore, is still unsuspecting. We can launch an assault and Change his Heart any time from now on. The only issue is that you are all too _weak.]_

[Ryuji: Hey, you don’t have to do us dirty like that. We’re gonna get stronger!]

[Ryuji: Trust us, Akechi! We got your back.]

[Akechi: Yes. Before that, however, we need to address Haru-san’s Awakening.]

[Haru: Me, Akechi-kun? Although I would admittedly love to have some role in helping you all confront all of this, I don’t think I’m truly necessary?]

[Haru: You’re all such a wonderfully cohesive team already.]

[Akechi: No, judging by how the app selected people before, we can probably guess your specialty.]

[Akechi: Whoever sent us the app obviously has designs for us all. Takamaki, Ryuji, Morgana and Yusuke cover the four elements, while Niijima covers Nuclear and I cover both Bless and Curse. That logically leaves you for Psio.]

[Makoto: I thought you only had Curse skills.]

[Akechi: I do have Bless, I merely haven’t used the skills yet. Haru-san, by fully Awakening you, we leave Joker open to any tactics he wishes to utilise with his Personas.]

[Haru: Oh, well.]

[Haru: Perhaps we can discuss this in person, Akechi-kun? There were a few matters I wished to clarify, in any case, in regards to my father.]

[Akechi: Certainly. Tomorrow, Haru-san?]

[Haru: That would be appreciated, Akechi-kun.]

[Akechi: Akira, any thoughts?]

For some reason, Ryuji always paid a little more attention whenever Akira wrote something, even if it was just a troll joke. It was kind of like the whole Thieves’ rock speaking, y’know? Kinda like, Akira was always there supporting them, so anything he spoke just… poof. Became true.

[Akira: Focus on the present. We’ll tackle things one at a time.]

[Akira: Futaba, delay your response. With you here, we already have a solution to anything they throw at us. Goro, alert us when you think we’ve delayed enough.]

[Akira: We’ll meet up and arrange a Mementos visit soon. Any objections?]

[Ann: Man, my head is still kind of spinning with everything you guys said.]

[Ann: But no objections! Text us when you’re ready, Akira!]

[Makoto: None. I’ll compile a list of thoughts on what Akechi just said so we can discuss further in person.]

[Yusuke: I don’t have any objections. This conversation has been, at least, very thought-provoking.]

[Ann: You mean _scary_ right, Fox?]

[Futaba: Okay, no objections for now! I get that we need time to power level to use the GA bug and face the final boss without a game over, so I’ll refrain from poking them back.]

[Ryuji: A lot of that went over my head but getting stronger is a good thing. Especially if even Akechi thinks he’s too weak to face’em.]

[Ryuji: We can do it, guys!]

[Haru: No objections from me. :)]

Seeing the chat quiet for now, Ryuji puts his phone down and takes a moment to just… stare at the living room ceiling a little.

The news reporter was still going, voice smooth as ever as he reported on other late-night news. Ryuji wonders how news guys do it, get their voices going all the time. He swears, the last time he tried to speak for more than an hour straight his voice went straight from fine to scratchy and water did nothing to help except make his voice croaky.

Right, so.

Apparently, Akechi had joined their team not only because of Shido, but because he also wanted the Thieves to fight God?

Not that Shido wasn’t a bastard. It was good Akechi had decided to come on their side.

Just… _ugh._ A lot to think about.

Ryuji knew he wasn’t a problem solver. It got pretty obvious in class when things just jumbled in his head when the teacher asked this symbol and that number and all he thought about was that the teacher drew his threes like cartoon moustaches. He just… wasn’t the type of guy that Akechi and Makoto obviously were. He liked problems that he could take a swing at, y’know?

Maybe a few games will help get his brain juices going? Super Bash Bros was always something he could waste the time away with when his brain got stuck.

Before he left though, he carefully took his phone and tucked it in his pocket.

No point in leaving it around in the living room where his ma liked to relax when she came home, late at night after a long shift.

* * *

(Somewhere across the city in a low dorm room lies Akechi, squinting at the chat he’s just typed into, vaguely satisfied at the outcome.

So, it seems like the truth was an important facet of this Arcana, as always. But it didn’t seem like it was always the case. There must be something missing, Akechi frowns, because the Arcana had levelled up during the Fireworks Festival as well, and he hadn’t revealed any of his thoughts then.

He adds it into his collection of observations and places his phone down.

Sleep was a rare resource, nowadays.)

**Judgment Rank 3 – The Phantom Thieves**

* * *

Thursday dawns with Yusuke’s enthusiastic chatter over a set of paint he ordered arriving when he checked his morning post, somehow early enough to catch the postman as he was dropping off his load for the dorms. Akechi hums and nods as a habit now, leading the way to weave the two through denser and denser crowds as they walked closer to Shibuya Station.

Yusuke, usually bubbling over when he finds himself upon a topic of passion, unexpectedly stops himself before he reaches past three decades of art history, and Akechi turns in silent question when the silence takes an enquiring air.

“I understand you are extremely busy, Akechi-kun, so don’t take this as pressure,” Yusuke says with his head politely dipped. “But may I check in on whether you’ve tracked down Yoshimi-san? I admit I tried my own hand at seeking him out, only to be greeted with disappointment.”

“I had access to the records of the homeless shelter Yoshimi had rested in for a while,” Akechi replies perfunctorily, calm as he glances over his shoulder and Yusuke’s eyes light up. “Some records say that he successfully found employment after Madarame was revealed as a fraud at a small local art shop in Ginza. He teaches children for free on Wednesday nights, and rents a room in a sharehouse nearby.”

“To think you remembered my small request,” Yusuke says with the amount of enthusiasm he usually directed towards admiring the concept of the nude, looking way too touched for Akechi to feel comfortable. Akechi waves him off towards the appropriate Shibuya Station entrance and stalks away, only for Yusuke to raise his voice.

“I’ll make sure to wait until you have time, Akechi-kun! My many thanks!” Yusuke practically shouts over the heads of twenty people, and Akechi doesn’t bother reacting as he speed walks down the stairs and out of sight.

School is as school does. There’s nothing particularly special about school work except the fact that his homeroom teacher calls him up to answer a few questions he at least knows the pre-requisite equations to, figuring them out as he went along.

He focuses more on what he’s agreed to do after school.

“Akechi-kun, here!” Haru stands up to wave from outside Okumura Foods in front of some decorative feature gardens, and Akechi walks quickly towards her.

“Are you ready, Haru-san?” Akechi asks as he pulls out his phone. Haru chose a good spot – the bushes partially enclose them, facing a quiet, isolated corner of the Okumura Corporation’s Plaza. When he checks that there’s no-one around, Haru reaches into her own bag and pulls out a small box, unclipping it to reveal that she’s ensconced her phone inside. She switches it on, presses the requisite search on the Metaverse App, watches them warp into her Father’s Palace, before clipping it shut again.

“I explained it away as a particularly strange phone case,” Haru says with a bright smile after she’s stowed her phone back into her bag. “It’s not as if my father cares much about my stylistic choices when I’m not presenting myself to sponsors or my fiancé, so it’s just taken as just another fad teenagers go through.”

“Considering what I informed everyone in the chat yesterday, it’s a wise choice,” Akechi says as Raguel’s suit settles over his form. He clenches the sword cane in his hands, Morrigan and Robin Hood subsiding to quieter corners for now as he turns to Haru. “I see you’re still struggling to manifest.”

Noir’s future musketeer costume flickers for a few seconds over Haru’s Shujin uniform before it fades, and Haru’s face falls into disappointment.

“I’d thought that after seeing the great things the Thieves will have to face in the future that I would gain find more of a will, if only just to help you guys,” Haru says regretfully, and Akechi thins his lips.

“That’s not how it works, Haru-san,” he says. “A Will of Rebellion doesn’t come from wishing to help others.”

“I know,” Haru says a little helplessly before she sighs. “I think I understand why you selected my father’s Palace to try awaken my Persona to it’s fullest. Shall we proceed?”

They don’t need to enter too deeply into the Palace itself to begin facing the realities of how Kunikazu Okumura viewed his workers and his company. A spaceport, completely isolated from any other society, civilisation, support, or repercussions for illegal behaviour. Machines as Shadows, muttering company slogans or obviously overworked into literal trash. Winding futuristic corridors shaded in blue and chrome without a shade of the ‘family-friendly’ personality that Big Bang Burger advertised itself as having.

Akechi observes Haru for flickers of Noir. Okumura’s Palace had been one of the Palaces that the Thieves had barely described to him, in his past life – understandably so, thinking of what they knew of his identity as the Black Mask. But this doesn’t help him _now,_ to understand what conclusions the Thieves made to make Haru Okumura face herself. Right now, watching overworking machines only makes her sad, and sometimes a little angry, but there’s no flicker of a tell-tale flame of blue that licks up her face. There’s no moment of realisation or shock or wish to fight against the tyranny of her father.

Akechi should have known that appealing to Haru’s kindness wouldn’t be enough to simulate a Will of Rebellion.

Haru’s kindness, after all, had always been something so freely given it felt near obligatory.

“Let’s go back, Haru-san,” Akechi finally says as they tour yet another facility transporting the burnt-out corpses of machines to someplace unknown, and Haru looks up at Akechi.

“Oh, do you think this is enough, Akechi-kun?” Haru asks with genuine curiosity.

“No, this method is obviously not working,” Akechi replies shortly, “and it’s foolish to expect a different result if we’re just touring the same matters over and over again. Let’s head back to the entrance, Haru-san.”

There’s not much of a challenge going back – although the Shadows respawn, they also usually respawn in the exact same points. It’s most probably because of how Okumura views working shifts, but it makes predicting patrol patterns and sniping them from afar infinitely easier.

Haru is pensive throughout her walk, all the way back out of the winding hallways and biometric security systems. It’s only when they’re standing back at the entrance in front of the large control room filled with scrolling machines and nonsensical charts and diagrams of space-craft and flight patterns that Haru snaps out of it. She steps past the reception desk with the large scrolling BIG BANG BURGER into the room.

“I think I know why I’m not manifesting my Persona yet, Akechi-kun,” Haru says. “This is partially tied to my request for clarification in any case. So may I impose upon you for a few more moments, and share my thoughts?”

Some parts of the control room were made of glass, and Haru’s eyes fixate on it. Black sky, metallic wires.

“Even when you have money, there’s a distinctive difference in status and rank on the quality of the money in certain circles,” Haru starts delicately as her eyes follow the stars of her father’s distorted heart. “Okumura Foods is new money, even if we’re a business that’s becoming more entrenched by the day. We are hardly a two-hundred-year-old ancestral company, nor are we as large and established as the Nanjo Conglomerate, Yotoya, or Kirijo Group. We’ve walked those circles together, Akechi-kun. You know how they are…”

She pauses, surely remembering what Akechi is also thinking of. Those who tried to flock to Haru because she was richer than them. Haru herself, always bending to the whims of her fiancé because he _was_ old money, with a familial reputation that has been entrenched for decades. Okumura, currying Shido’s favour because Shido was both old money and a powerful individual in his own right.

“Comparison is a human sport,” Akechi replies, extremely dry, and Haru nods politely in agreement, her own smile is tinged with something that is a little too sharp before she carefully smooths it over.

She sits primly on the floor, leaning against the wall, and pats the space next to her in invitation when Akechi doesn’t automatically move. It’s only when Akechi is seated next to her that she continues.

“Yes. These circles make you see the world as something you suck dry. It’s never enough, even dripping with riches and status and power. I haven’t lived a life like yours, Akechi-kun,” Haru says with sympathy, “but I grew up… We were poor until we weren’t. I was around seven when Big Bang Burger started franchising. Ten when Big Bang Burger became popular. Eleven, when Big Bang Burger successfully opened stores in all prefectures. It was a drastic change,” Haru reflects as she gives up a little on sitting straight and slumps sideways a little. When Akechi doesn’t move away, Haru curls up and leans properly on Akechi’s shoulder, even though her eyes don’t leave the flashing rainbow lights of the unmanned seats of the control room, the almost toylike quality of the buttons.

“It wasn’t only the fact that we went from our small one-room apartment to a proper 3LDK, then from that 3LDK we moved into a house, then a luxury condo, then somehow managing to purchase a mansion from some bankrupted old family. Suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend when I faced them, only for those same people to bet on when my father would lose his money the moment I turned my back. It was a startling realisation to realise my friends would use me to gain the attention of even bigger fish, or brag and use my name to do horrendous things. Sometimes,” Haru laughs, and her hair tickles Akechi’s neck when she shifts, “I can’t help but wish people were easier to read. I know good people are out there, but somehow, they always seem to evade me. I’ve made too many ‘friends’ who I only realised, too late, that they didn’t deserve my regard at all.”

Haru Okumura has always had trust issues. Akechi remembers her cautious eyes behind a welcoming smile, the careful manoeuvring around their identities in golden night-times and classical music. They had only established a better connection weeks after, when both demanded nothing of the other except for honest companionship.

Perhaps the only reason why Haru had trusted the Thieves so readily was because of how transparent they were to even the most casual bystander, regarding Haru first, her Okumura name second. Maybe it was the additional factor of how obviously coincidental their meeting was. First, through Morgana, and then being accepted because of her Persona possibilities.

“How is this related to why seeing your father’s Palace isn’t enough to awaken your Persona?” Akechi asks, and Haru hums.

“Will you promise not to judge me, Akechi-kun?” Haru asks, before answering the question herself. “That was a silly request, wasn’t it? I know you won’t.”

Even getting comfortable, Haru stays elegant in her movements. She folds her hands in her lap, laces her fingers together. Legs, together and folded sideways. There hasn’t been any time that Akechi has caught Haru Okumura blindsided to show an inelegant look.

It also means it’s engrained into Haru’s habit that she is aware, at all times, that someone could be watching her.

_Reputation first._

“Anyone seeing my father’s Palace would be angry. That includes me, of course,” Haru says. “But this doesn’t stop me from seeing all of this cruelty as just the extent of how much my father has warped himself because of the Okumura name. Because of _us._ My father used to be a kind man, and I was the one who saw, first-hand, how he forcefully changed himself into someone who would get the success he’d dreamed of for so long.”

Haru pauses, warm against his side before she sighs and continues.

“He got rid of the kindness that led to my grandfather’s bankruptcy, focusing more on profit than human capital. He shaved off his empathy when he grit his teeth to make unscrupulous deals to finally pay off the loan sharks that knocked on our doors. He placed his compassion to the side when he entered the competitive market of fast food, exploiting each and every trick he could. It goes on,” Haru lists, “and when I see father’s Palace, I’m merely sad it got to this point and I didn’t notice. That I am his daughter, and I failed to help him when he needed it most.”

 _Oh,_ Akechi’s mind catches on her words and turns it around. He turns to look at Haru Okumura through his mask and thinks.

_I see._

“Continuing on, in any case, I want to stop failing my father. That’s why I wished to ask the details on whatever plan you have in regard to saving him from the Conspiracy.”

Akechi’s revelation changes his plans a little, so he nods to accept the change in topic.

“Its simple. Your father’s life will only be officially targeted when he announces his intention to run for Prime Minister,” Akechi replies, shifting slightly to jostle Haru’s head. Haru’s presence is a little too warm now, and Haru sits up with a small laugh and knowing eyes. “But he is an intelligent man. He would never announce such a big decision while a large scandal like MEDJED versus the Phantom Thieves is happening.”

Haru’s eyes widen.

“Is that another reason why you wished to delay Futaba’s announcement?”

“Yes,” Akechi confirms with a sharp nod. “I wish to clear Kunikazu Okumura’s Palace and change his heart by the time we clear MEDJED’s claim. And I want you to be there when it happens, Haru-san.”

“That’s why you’re pushing me to awaken…” Haru murmurs to herself in realisation, and Akechi gets up after a glance at the time. He rolls his shoulders experimentally.

“I thought you’d appreciate not sitting on the sidelines while we infiltrated your father’s heart,” is what Akechi says, gauging Haru’s reaction.

“Of course!” Haru says with much more spirit than she’d reacted to this whole trip. “I will do anything to save father from this fate!”

_…Interesting._

It’s not often he reads someone so fundamentally wrong.

“Let’s work hard then, Haru-san,” Akechi states as he pulls out his phone to leave, and Haru nods firmly.

“I will.”

**Empress Rank 4 – Haru Okumura**

* * *

“You’re nearly late, GA!” Futaba accuses when he steps into the early evening crowd of Ginza. “If you were later by even _one_ minute, you would’ve missed our Featherman Café booking! Do you know how hard it was to nab a ticket?”

Futaba’s waving the tickets in her hand, clearly emblazoned with the time [5:30] on them.

Well, Akechi has heard the legends, at least, of That One Year where one of the popup cafés also included a live signing from the live-action Feather crew. The internet went _rabid_ after a fan got a photograph with Feather Victory striking a love heart pose with her hands.

“Sorry for the wait,” Akechi says, nodding at the entrance of the café plastered with Featherman advertising. “Talking to Haru took longer than expected.”

Futaba’s bad mood melts off her the moment he apologises, and a mischievous grin immediately takes its place.

“I guess it’s fine as long as you’re not _really_ late. Mwehehe,” her eyes shine as she proudly brandishes her ticket to the woman standing at the doorway checking for bookings, already peering around at how the café had plastered the interior with space-themed stickers, little stars and space-ships hanging from the ceiling, “now that I’m visiting with _two_ people, we can totally eat all five types of set meals and collect _all_ the limited collectables!”

“Wait, what?” Akechi looks at Futaba incredulously, only for her to have already darted off to crouch in front of a large stuffed Zerg plushie in the corner, soft pincers raised ready to mock attack.

“GA, GA, take a photo!” Futaba insists, waving him over frantically. Akechi was already feeling awkward at the stares that they were garnering – the waitress, especially, who was waiting on the side ready to guide them to their table with a smile that already had a twitching muscle to her cheek – but when Futaba turns her head with a beam on her face that’s…

He’s never seen Futaba Sakura look so happy before.

Something in his heart _twists_ (regret, tasting like bitter ash on his tongue) and he bows politely to the waitress in apology before stepping closer to Futaba. She hands him her phone before crouching again in front of the Zerg who, Akechi thought deep in his heart as he intoned a flat ‘One, two… Done’, wasn’t even cute in any way, shape or form.

“Yay! Thank you, GA!”

Futaba laughs at the result when he hands the photograph back, and Akechi clenches his shaking hands when she pulls him over to where the waitress was pointedly standing next to an empty table.

“What are you ordering today?” The waitress gives them the same exact smile as she had the moment they came in, and Futaba doesn’t even look at the menu when she points at the limited ‘Feather-edition’ meals.

“All five of them!” Futaba says to the waitress, who doesn’t even blink as she jabs her little helmeted pen to her notepad and bows to them when she leaves. There’s a television screen showing the opening to the latest Featherman season above Futaba’s head, though she doesn't seem bothered about not being able to watch it when she continues excitedly. “We’ll get the set bonuses with the drinks, so that’ll rake us all the limited Featherman placemats that came out this year. Mwehehe, I have this _aaaaaall_ planned out, you know.”

“Have you,” Akechi replies, all wry, and Futaba pouts, before reaching over the table and poking him in the arm.

“Stop being so serious all the time and let loose, GA! Have you _ever_ been into a Featherman popup before? Like, usually popups have mediocre food at best, but Featherman actually cares about making food taste good!”

“I haven’t been to any pop up cafés in my life,” Akechi says back. Although Futaba pouts even harder at that reply, it’s honestly just _strange._

He would have given anything to be sitting here when he was eight.

“Your order,” the waitress comes back with that same, slightly painful smile, and Futaba _‘oooohs’_ at the seaweed salad that they’d prepared as Green’s signature dish, but only after she’d extracted the glossy printed placemat (a concept art of Feather Parakeet as she placed her hands in prayer, green energy spreading from her palms to strangle a whole Zerg ship) placed underneath it and slotted it into a plastic file.

“Let’s dig in, GA! I bet you can’t eat more than me, hah!”

* * *

“…I regret everything,” Futaba burped, half slid under the table as she rested her hands on her stomach. “GA, _GAAAAA_ , go eat, _urp_ , eat that last bite of curry.”

“Ugh. Why did I agree to this,” Akechi says as he slumps over the table, eyeing the last bite of curry on their table like it was an evil akin to Shido.

No, even Shido would be a easier fight than _forcing another bite into his mouth_.

“ _GAAAAA—”_ Futaba continues whining, and Akechi glares up at her with one eye.

“Go eat it yourself if you don’t want to waste it so badly.”

“But I _caaan’t,”_ Futaba continues to say, pointedly poking her stomach and immediately looking a little green. “I’ve reached my maximum satisfaction threshold! If we calculate by weight and mass on who can eat more, aren’t you the one who can eat the last _tinsy, winsy bite?”_

Akechi, in a moment of spiteful pettiness, scoops up the last _tinsy winsy_ bite of curry and manages to shove it into Futaba’s mouth with her last word, and Futaba’s eyes widen when her mouth is suddenly stuffed, glaring straight back at Akechi when she starts manically chewing and swallows it down.

“Critical hit,” she hisses, adjusting her glasses. “That was a war declaration.”

“Whatever you say,” Akechi replies, a little smug as he settled down into his own chair and tilts his head to watch one of the latest episodes of Featherman.

The animation is so clean now, something in the back of his mind registers, compared to what he saw in his childhood. The style looked completely different too – the faces rounder, the eyes bigger – than what he was used to.

“I was going to do some serious High-Quality Reproduction so that you can get your own placemat copies,” Futaba was continuing to mutter to herself on the other side of the table, but Akechi isn’t truly listening, “but you think, with this betrayal, that I will do such a benevolent act without suitable recompense? There is only one solution!” Futaba insists, and Akechi lurches back when he sees a skinny hand darting to grab him by the elbow.

“Don’t use your super quick reflexes on me now, come on!” Futaba wiggles her fingers as she reaches over the table to grab him. “I just want a photo! Maybe with the Red and Green placemats! Or Blue, but I’m not really a strategist.”

“A photo? Why?” Akechi balks, and Futaba frowns at him.

“You get photographed _all_ the time, so don’t tell me you’re camera shy! And anyway, I wanted a photo because…”

Futaba pauses. For the first time since the meal started, her energy drops into a sort of moroseness that Akechi is infinitely more familiar with.

He’s startled to find he hates it.

“The last time I went to a Featherman popup it was with Mom and Sojiro,” Futaba explains, arm retracting. “We also ate fit to burst, and um, we had a photo after everything was done and I usually hate photos but I really, really liked that one. So I thought maybe, maybe we could take a photo, y’know? Like, since our time is nearly up and all—”

Akechi sighs loudly.

“Which placemat did you want to hold up?”

Futaba perks up a little, a tentative smile coming back up wobbly over her face.

“I-I want you to hold Blue! Or Red, since you like Red so much, and I’ll hold Green!”

“Then hand it over,” Akechi holds out his hand, and Futaba laughs again, bright like it’d been for most of the hour they’ve sat here, and carefully slides out the placemats from her plastic sleeve to select the right one.

Ultimately, the waitress had a much more genuine smile on her face when they called her over to take a photo of them two, Akechi squished on the seat next to Futaba, having placed all the Featherman drinking straws they’d managed to get on the table in front of them and appropriately themed Featherman Placemats in hand. Futaba is smiling so wide her smile nearly touches her ears while Akechi’s more of a grimace than anything ( _‘why can you smile for the cameras as a Detective Prince so easily and not here, huh?’_ ), and in the end Futaba sends him the photograph on their chat with a tonne of excited chatter that ends with,

[Futaba: Did you know Akira is basically a food fighter with how much he eats?]

[Futaba: Next time, we should just order all the food and watch him eat!]

[GA: Good plan. Then I don’t have to fear indigestion every time you invite me out somewhere.]

[Futaba: GA, don’t be such a party pooper! You had fun, admit it!]

And Akechi looks at the photograph – he looks so _stupid,_ he hasn’t been so un-photogenic for a long time – and secretly admits to himself that yes, perhaps, it had been… a little fun.

**Hermit Rank 2 – Futaba Sakura**

* * *

“Akira,” Akechi says with a little exasperation when he steps out of his school gates the next day. “When I said that we could have a chat tomorrow, I didn’t expect you to…”

Akira stands straight from where he’d been leaning on the school gates, standing out like a sore thumb in the black and red checkers of his school uniform compared to Akechi’s own beige, black and white. Students were already staring at him before (he hears some whispers, wondering who that charismatic guy was, and when Akechi had noticed Akira waiting at the gates and immediately took a right turn to ascertain that yes, his eyes were working correctly and he wasn’t hallucinating, some girls had already been planning to approach him for his number), and when Akechi addressed him, the crowd around them double-backed and visibly turned an ear for gossip.

Akira shrugs.

“Figured that this would save time,” Akira says, and it’s not as if Akechi could _deny_ that claim.

“Alright, did you have a place in mind?”

Typical, Akechi thought to himself, when Akira just shook his head in negative.

“Let’s go to the aquarium then,” Akechi replies, pausing next to Akira for a moment before continuing on, and Akira easily matched his strides. “There’s been some sort of fad about the newest aquarium exhibit, and I haven’t been able to give an opinion on that lately.”

“Alright,” Akira says, squinting up at the slight clouds in the powder blue sky before a smile rises to his lips when he looks back down at Akechi. “Lead on, Goro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noname-nonartist drew another amazing piece of art that depicts an AU that brewed in the discord, where people speculated - what if marigolds PT met original PT in the PQ2 world, and they met GA after a hypothetical Things Went Down In Shido's Palace Really Badly? (it's uh, a little longer than that but that's the tldr  
> https://noname-nonartist.tumblr.com/post/643332505606455296/  
> but the art is amazing - all the expressions, colours, poses - you're a gifted artist, nona. Thank you so much ^^
> 
> (discord has also been pointing out fanart that I haven't seen because they haven't shared in comments and stuff, and I've been um, looking at them and figuring out how to comment but hesitate to share? But also, you're all amazing, and if you have drawn or done anything, I would love to see it. It's just kinda, inspiring to see the circle of inspiration continue, ehe.)  
> (anyway, I'll stop being sappy. It's ok to not share too - there's no pressure haha)
> 
> Thank you very much for all the kudos and comments! I really appreciate them (haha, everyone was freaking out about Shido last week but he's only there to flavour text as things move forward ^^. I'm looking forward to it though!)  
> It's just a plotty chapter today, there's not much that happened and uh, I sometimes wonder if I drag on for too long but also I missed out on some confidants again today (sorry hikaru, you're in the next chapter *cough* i miss you too uwu. also Yu next chapter, because he has to be best weekly professional onii-chan).
> 
> I um, I don't know what else to say today actually so stay safe everyone, thank you for reading! You guys are all amazing, and I wish you all a great week. See you next week! I'll get edit the chapter during the week whoops


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